


Darling, you can drive my car...

by Ziane



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, Lust at First Sight, M/M, One Night Stand, Or not, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Smut, Someone will spank someone eventually, Spanking, fast burn, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-05 18:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14624937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziane/pseuds/Ziane
Summary: ... and maybe I'll love you.Jesse McCree turned his phone off after the recall and is pondering if he should join Overwatch again or if that life is over for him when he meets a stranger at a roadside bar in the middle of New Mexico.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Side notes before reading:  
> \- This is an Alternate Universe in which McCree meets Hanzo for the first time right after the recall.  
> \- They don't know who the other is.  
> \- Hanzo has already met with Genji in Hanamura and his brother has offered him to join Overwatch.  
> \- English is not my mother tongue, so there will be mistakes （−＿−；）
> 
> Enjoy!! o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

**Thursday 01:03:38 AM**

McCree shouldn’t be drinking at a roadside bar in the middle of nowhere; he should be behind the wheel, driving to the East Coast and getting on a plane to Spain. Two weeks ago, Winston called, and he saw Athena’s message about how they were trying to get together all Overwatch agents and he just turned his phone off. Right away.

Time to think. That’s why he’s there nursing a poor-excuse of a bourbon in a makeshift bar at wee hours, trying to make the most of it because he can’t drink too much and not be able to drive later. He’s not twenty anymore, he wryly thinks when he realizes his thirty-seven years old sit heavy on his back.

A faint background of country music helps him lurk into his mind and think about all the wrong reasons Overwatch should never come back. Why it went to hell, _how_ everything went to hell. It wasn’t unexpected, he knows, damn, he fled out of there before things exploded. Literally.

Before he can notice he’s finished his drink and is looking for a good excuse to order another. He finds none and is about to stand, pay, and leave when the door opens and a man that seems to have escaped his most shameful wet dreams walks decisively towards the counter and sits two stools away from him. He spots a blue weirdly shaped backpack at his back, green jacket, and damn those trousers. Suddenly, the Overwatch issue is a problem for his future self.

The corner of his lip twitches upward and McCree circles the rim of the glass with his finger, leaning on his elbows over the counter and -not as slowly as he intends- tilts his head to take a sidelong at that beautiful stranger. Black hair tied up in a bun, an undercut -surely a product of a middle age crisis- strong eyebrows, turned-up nose he finds adorable and doesn’t fit that stern face and that well-trimmed goatee. McCree sighs without noticing, he’s staring and he cannot help himself. His hair is so black he suddenly wants to touch it to see if it’s as soft as it seems, deep black as those deep infinite voids looking right through him.

 _Shit_.

“Want another?” the barman asks and saves the day.

He pushes his glass with his knuckles without saying a word to get another shot of poison while he adjusts his cowboy hat to cover a blush that shouldn’t be there but is because he can feel the burn on his cheeks. He huddles in his red serape, as he always does when he is nervous, taking a peek at the man and McCree swears he has seen a glimpse of a smirk. Maybe the night is not a total waste after all.

Taking his drink, he moves a stool closer to him. Nothing to lose anymore if he gets rejected he’ll go back to his own car to drive for three more hours to the next roadside motel. McCree hasn’t decided yet if he’s going to Gibraltar or not but he’s on his way. A road trip always helps him figure things out and he can always turn the opposite direction and disappear in the living hell he’s been wandering for the past six years.

“Howdy,” he says and smiles widely when those glazing eyes look at him. Well, he got his attention. “Can I buy ya’ a drink?”

“Really?” Hanzo says and arches an eyebrow at the smiling man that seems out of a cowboy movie; he hasn’t decided yet if a good one or a bad one. But before he can answer, the man has already called the waiter, and he finds a glass of bourbon in front of him.

Hanzo stares at it doubtfully, he has a long drive ahead. He has just finished his supposed last assignment as a mercenary if he finally decides to take his brother’s offer and joins Overwatch. _His brother_. His mind still fights against Genji being alive, but he has seen him with his own eyes, listened to his voice and his words sank his heart with pain and regret but also with hope. Hope and the wishful thinking that he can atone for his actions. If that’s even possible.

“What brings ya’ here? Pleasure or work?” McCree says and interrupts his thoughts.

“None of your business,” Hanzo says and smirks at the handsome man at his side. “But since you have been so kind to buy me a drink I did not ask for, I may say the latter.” He takes a sip at the drink and wrinkles up his nose at the strong flavor, missing already the last time a good sake wet his lips.

“You’re welcome,” McCree says. A though one, he thinks.

“What about you, cowboy?” Hanzo says and notices the prosthetic arm half hidden under the serape but tries not to stare out of curiosity.

McCree chuckles and tips his hat, his attire may be old-fashioned, but he draws attention wherever he goes. He has to play his cards well enough if he wants his night to have a happy ending, but he keeps getting distracted by a lock of hair that frames the man’s face no matter how many times he tucks it behind his ear.

“I need to make a decision an’ I always get a clear mind when I drive,” he says. “The name’s McCree, by the way, and you are… if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I do mind,” Hanzo says while a sly smile creeps up his face, he loves to play hard to get. “Nice to meet you.” He extends a hand to the cowboy, and he takes it gladly, a strong callous hand that sends a jolt of excitement through him.

“What should I call ya’ then?” McCree says and chuckles.

“Do not call me,” Hanzo smiles and sips again the sweet, dry poison in front of him.

“Alrighty,” McCree clicks his tongue. “Where are you going? ‘Cause honey, ya’ don’t look from here.”

“East coast, I believe,” Hanzo says and frowns when the reality of his existence hits him again and he dwells in the past. A past who came to visit him in Hanamura barely two weeks ago. McCree notices the gloomy mood and changes the subject because he has demons of his own and that is not his goal tonight.

“I was ‘bout to leave when you came in,” McCree says and a half-smile paint his lips.

“What changed your mind?” Hanzo asks, suppressing a knowing smile at the anticipated praise.

“You did,” McCree says. “I mean…” he unabashedly stares at the man’s lips. “Have you seen you? ‘Cause I sure did.”

Hanzo chuckles and lifts his glass in a silent toast, finishing his drink. He’s not sure if the burn on his face is because of the alcohol he’s not used to drinking or the blatant flirting the cowboy pours in his ears. It has been a long time since someone has paid him that kind of attention and he can’t help his racing heart and the shrink in his stomach at the prospect he believes the cowboy is offering.

McCree smiles triumphantly and changes seats again, getting closer to that bedazzling man and hoping he gets what he wants tonight. “The road is lonely, and the night is still young,” he says and leans forward until his shoulder brushes the stranger’s so slightly.

“You know what they say, it is better to be alone than in bad company,” Hanzo teases but a clammy, trembling hand he hopes the cowboy hasn’t noticed goes to rest on the man’s knee.

“But darlin’, I’m a very good company, ya’ won’t regret it,” McCree whispers with a raspy voice that clenches Hanzo’s stomach in the most pleasurable way.

He’s going to do it, Hanzo knows; he’s going to hook up with that man because if he doesn’t he will be thinking about those brown, warm eyes all the way on the road, wondering what’s underneath that red fabric covering his shoulders, how does his hair look without the hat, how does that breath feels on his neck or how do those lips kiss him everywhere.

“I’ll pay for our drinks and ya’ wait for me outside?” McCree says with a wolfish grin when that hand doesn’t leave his knee.

“Do not take too long,” Hanzo says and stands. “I grow tired of waiting.” He places a hand on his shoulder and whispers the last words into the cowboy’s ear; when he shivers he smirks because that man wants him as much as he does.

 

**Thursday 01:50:31 AM**

When the cold breeze of the night hits him all the gallantry from earlier vanishes and Hanzo panics. It’s been too long, what is he even doing? He knows the man for what? Half an hour? He stares at his car and takes a step forward, the possibility of just getting in and driving away fast is there and is too tempting.

Who is he trying to fool? He’s a thirty-eight-year-old man who has done many regrettable things among the years, some of them unspeakable; a trained assassin, a mercenary, a killer, and yet he has a full erection strained in his trousers and wants to rut against that filthy cowboy. Hanzo cannot think straight and he flinches when a friendly hand touches his shoulder and he turns around.

The man is tall, something he hasn’t noticed before, a good six inches taller than him and has a sweet, dreamy blush on his cheeks that makes him smile and forget the doubts. He is definitely doing this tonight.

“It’s chilly out here,” McCree says and Hanzo thinks he’s trying to make up conversation until he leans forward.

McCree cups his face and lifts gently his head while he gets dangerously close. Hanzo’s heart skips a beat, or a hundred because he is dizzy and closes his eyes to avoid the piercing lustful stare from the man in front of him.

“You’re so pretty…” the cowboy whispers into his mouth. “So damn pretty.”

Then Hanzo gasps and those lips trap the air that leaves his mouth because the cowboy kisses him, presses his lips gently, almost sloppy or even shyly Hanzo guesses. But then it’s gone when he fists the red garment and stands on his tiptoes to deepen the kiss; a warm tongue pushes inside his mouth and he tastes the same bourbon from earlier but better.

McCree moans into the kiss and his hand travels at the back of the man’s nape in case he wants to break the kiss because right now, he wants to die there, feasting on those velvety lips he has claimed for himself. He still cannot believe that gorgeous creature has fallen for his bad pick up lines and rusty flirting but that’s a puzzle for his future self to solve. He’s too busy right now to care.

“You kiss like a teenager,” Hanzo murmurs, breathless.

“How?” McCree says while his hands avoid the backpack and trace a shameful path until they’re right at the border where the back loses his name. _Pretty, sweet ass_ , he thinks.

“Eagerly,” Hanzo says with a sly smile before winding his arms around his shoulders and biting at his lower lip, sucking at it and relishing in the faint whine that leaves the cowboy’s mouth.

The singing of the crickets and their ragged breaths are the only thing filling the night. Hanzo cannot remember any of the reasons why this is a bad idea because he’s fixed on the subtle friction he gets on his neglected hard bulge and pushes into that well-placed thigh. Two men startle them when they leave the bar and they realize perhaps the front door isn’t the best place for this.

“Ya’ still wanna do this?” McCree whispers and tries to no avail to put some distance between them.

Hanzo grasps his hand before it can leave his waist and presses it shamelessly into his groin so he can sense the main reason he’s taking poorly thought decisions tonight. McCree grunts and hides his face in the crook of his neck planting kisses there that make Hanzo shudder.

“Does that answer your question?” Hanzo whispers and traps his earlobe into his mouth, noticing how the poor hat is about to fall. Not that the cowboy cares.

“The back?” McCree murmurs but Hanzo frowns and shakes his head. He is doing this but not in plain sight. “My car? It’s right there.” He points with his head and fetches his hat before it falls.

Brown mussed hair, flattened by the cowboy hat, that’s what underneath and Hanzo smirks and nods. The man, McCree, he corrects himself and chuckles inwardly when he realizes he hasn’t even introduced himself yet, walks decisively while he fumbles into his pockets for the keys. Perhaps it’s best this way, that they don’t know each other and can just yield to this earthly pleasure without complications.

“This is happening,” McCree mumbles and curses when he can’t remember where he has put the keys and checks every damn pocket twice until he finds them in his left back pocket.

Luckily, his car is far enough from the bar in a poor-illuminated parking lot -that fits five cars tops- and under a broken post light, thank god. Well, thank god until it takes him what seems like an eternity to open the door.

“After you,” he says and winks to Hanzo who rolls his eyes.

Hanzo sighs and takes off his backpack to get in the backseat of the car while McCree struggles with the front seats to create the illusion of more space. Not nearly enough, Hanzo thinks while he takes off his military green jacket and tucks his things on the seat in front of him.

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” McCree says while he tries to tidy things up, taking off his hat and serape and tossing them to the passenger seat. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“What is it with the pet names?” Hanzo asks and chuckles.

“Well you haven’t told me your name, sugar,” McCree says and huddles against him. “Nice ink.” McCree caresses the exposed arm, following the tattoo there until it disappears on the sleeve of the shirt. Hanzo shivers.

The lack of room is not a problem when McCree looks for Hanzo’s mouth again a bit too eagerly. It’s been ages since the last time he has had a beauty like him at his reach -or ever, to be fair- and he is not wasting this opportunity. He caresses Hanzo’s neck with his right hand and trails a naughty path down his puffy chest.

“Is this okay?” he whispers and Hanzo nods, looking for his mouth again.

McCree squeezes the flesh and revels in the perked nipple he circles through the shirt with his thumb while Hanzo thrust his tongue into his mouth and moans wonders he never thought existed until tonight. Then McCree feels it, the stranger is palming his hard length over his awfully straining jeans, but Hanzo chuckles.

“Hey sweetie, don’t laugh ‘round a man’s dick, that ain’t polite,” McCree says while Hanzo unfastens the flashy BAMF buckle.

“I find your buckle amusing,” Hanzo says while deft fingers unbutton and pry open his fly offering a much-needed relief and exposing a hard bulge still constricted by the underwear. “Oh,” Hanzo says when he fondles McCree’s jutting cock through the boxers and can only guess the size of the man.

“Not laughing now, ain’t ya’?” McCree teases but his smile drops when Hanzo moans, looking intently into those whiskey-colored eyes and follows his hard length with his fingers. He is so hard, the fabric already soaked where the tip is, and without asking, he sneaks a hand inside.

“Damn, darlin’,” McCree curses and buries his face in Hanzo’s neck; biting and breathing hard and warm at the skin there.

Hanzo wraps his hand around his girth while McCree lifts his ass and lowers his jeans and boxers enough to free his cock in the air. When Hanzo touches him in long painfully slow strokes, he buries his face again in his neck and pants. It’s been too damn long, he thinks.

McCree is losing his mind, that warm hand is squeezing exactly where he needs, twisting beautifully at the hilt and fisting the head of his cock so wonderfully spurts of precum ooze out of him every single time. He’s going to come and embarrass himself too soon only from a handjob in front of the most gorgeous man he has ever seen. A damn good handjob. With all the strength he can gather, he grips Hanzo’s wrist.

“Let me,” McCree gasps. “Let me suck you real good, honey.” Hanzo freezes and blesses the darkness in the car because his cheeks and neck are turning a new shade of red at the offer.

Hanzo cannot articulate a word so he hurries to open his fly and smiles shyly when McCree winks at him. He struggles with the lack of space until he leans back and McCree tries to fit his six feet tall huddling however he can in the backseat, half his body on Hanzo's lap. They fumble about until they find a position as comfortable as possible given the circumstances.

McCree swoops down the trousers and underwear and Hanzo swallows at how exposed he is to a complete stranger, but when the cowboy glances up at him with that wolfish grin and licking his lips he doesn’t care anymore.

“Everything’s pretty ‘bout ya’, sweetheart,” McCree says while he takes him in his hand and leans forward, his mechanical hand grasping the side of his thigh. The surface is cold but the gentle squeeze of the fingers warms it up quickly.

“You do not have to sweet talk me into this, cowboy,” Hanzo says, trying to mask his embarrassment.

“I’m a sweet talker, darlin’,” McCree says and drags his lips over his hard cock as beautifully as he drags his accent on those words. Hanzo whines but can’t take his eyes off him. “But don’t worry sweet pie, I’m gonna be silent for a while…”

Before Hanzo can quip at that McCree lets his tongue out and, with the help of his hand, he traps the head of his cock in his mouth. Hanzo moans loudly when that warmth envelopes him and tries hard not to buck his hips up into that sinful mouth. Out of raw instinct, he takes a handful of McCree’s hair, soft and thick just how he has imagined, but then he lets go.

“I am sorry, I…” Hanzo murmurs and, when McCree takes him out with a wet noise, he curses in Japanese.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” McCree says and takes his hand, placing it in his hair and tangling Hanzo’s trembling fingers on it. “Sometimes I like it a ‘lil rough.” He winks and Hanzo’s heart skips a beat for the second time tonight.

No wonder he has fallen for the cowboy’s flirting when everything he promised is right there. McCree takes him inside his mouth again and hums a sweet melody of moans while he sucks his throbbing cock. Hanzo tugs at his hair, trying to pull away from that mouth that will send him over the edge way too soon, but the cowboy swallows and sucks, and sinks his whole length inside until he gags and Hanzo writhes at the sweet movement of his throat.

Hanzo curses in Japanese, bucking his hips up to meet that heavenly mouth offered to him and McCree has the nerve to chuckle with a mouth full of his cock. He sneaks his hand under Hanzo and kneads greedily his butt cheek, relishing in the soft skin and hard muscle while he gives him head. _Like riding a bike_ , he thinks.

His left hand is busy groping for that sweet ass while his right one goes down to grip his own forgotten cock. He’s too impatient, and this is too exciting so he jerks himself off while he sucks on that cock, taking him out only to gasp for air and attack again his sweet prize.

Hanzo sees him and moans loudly, forgetting where they are and that they could get caught at any time. He takes a peek outside but realizes their activities already fogged the windows. What a beautiful sight that sweet cowboy he just met is giving him the blowjob of his life and he finds terribly lewd he is so aroused by it that he is touching himself meanwhile. And that mouth, wet and hot, sucking demandingly and swallowing him whole. That tongue brushing back and forth his length, circling playfully the head and then he’s deep inside again. The only thing Hanzo can do is moan and whine, embarrassed because he cannot control himself.

He wraps his hand around McCree’s and the cowboy meets his gaze, his cheeks hollowing because he doesn’t stop sucking until Hanzo tugs at his hair and moves away his hand to do himself the task. He’d do better in any other position but Hanzo tries his best and pumps his hard length faster.

“Do not stop, please,” Hanzo moans. “You feel so good.”

McCree takes Hanzo’s hand and helps him while they both squeeze and stroke his own cock, relishing in the softness of the strange hand touching him while he sucks and bobs his head in a needy rhythm, drooling and surrendering to his own pleasure. He wants it, wants the man to come in his mouth and feel the warmth of his spent sliding down his throat. It’s been too long.

“I’m close,” Hanzo moans and moves his hand on McCree’s cock faster. “Close, McCree,” he warns, but that only encourages the cowboy to keep his pace. McCree may not know his name but he surely remembers his.

McCree’s so close his orgasm surprises him and he spills himself in Hanzo’s hand, his trousers and -shit- the backseat. Not that he cares because before he can process it or revel in that skillful hand milking him dry Hanzo comes and the warm spurts of his spent fill his mouth. He sucks and swallows, a bit sloppy, he’s terribly out of practice, but keeps him inside until Hanzo stops writhing underneath him and moans loudly.

He takes him out gently and straightens on the backseat, satisfied when Hanzo tilts his head back and is breathing heavily, his body slack and relaxed. McCree fumbles for a package of wet wipes and cleans his hand and mouth, offering one to the man with a smug smile on his lips when he recovers himself after a hearty sigh.

“Told ya’ I’d give you a good time, sweetheart,” McCree says while he pulls his jeans up and covers his naughty bits.

“You sure did, cowboy,” Hanzo says and pulls his trousers up too, still a little breathless and realizing it is that moment when the lust has passed and they have nothing to talk about but say goodbye uncomfortably.

Hanzo gets ready for it, but when he sees that sweet smile on McCree’s lips, still cleaning his hand, and his hair stuck on his forehead by the steaming heat inside the car, he craves his company, wants this moment not to be over too soon and opens the window to get a breeze of fresh air.

McCree thanks him and does the same, sitting back and sighing while looking at him. Hanzo curses himself because he wants to kiss him and leans forward tentatively, reaching for those lips while the cowboy mimics him. Hanzo drags his lips over McCree’s swollen mouth and lets his tongue out to taste himself on him. Lewd and sinful mouth…

A roaring engine and a squeak of tires interrupt them. A car speeds up in the parking lot leaving behind a cloud of dust that slowly disappears into the night.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” McCree says and chuckles.

“That’s my car!” Hanzo shouts when he recognizes it and gets out of McCree’s car in a futile attempt to stop the thieves, but he knows his vehicle is long gone when he cannot even glimpse the red lights in the night and he is breathless at the ditch of the road in the middle of New Mexico.

“Shit,” McCree says next to him. “Did you have something valuable? We can try an’ go after them.”

“It was a rental,” Hanzo says and runs a hand over his face, cursing his bad luck. “My belongings are in my backpack.” At least Hanzo was careful enough not to leave the backpack in the car, just thinking about losing storm bow sinks his heart. “I’ll be going, I’ve taken enough of your time, thank you,” he bluntly says and walks decisively toward the bar, to make a phone call and try to find another car.

“Hey,” McCree says. “Where are ya’ going?”

“I need to find another transport,” Hanzo says without stopping.

“I can give ya’ a ride, you’re going to the East Coast, so am I,” McCree says, stopping when Hanzo stands stock still in the middle of the parking lot and considers his offer.

“Are we supposed to drive all the way in that junk heap?” Hanzo says, pointing at the car where moments ago McCree gave him the best blowjob of his life.

“At least I have a car, sweetheart,” McCree says and winks when Hanzo turns around to glare at him. Hanzo huffs, annoyed at how right the cowboy is and heads to the vehicle, defeated while McCree follows and chuckles.

 

**Thursday 03:35:12 AM**

Hanzo gazes out at the immensity of the desert and the silver reflections the moon traces over the landscape. The faint country music playing on the radio fills the silence that reigns in the car since the cowboy realized he wasn’t in the mood for talking and cut off his banter.

“Thank you,” Hanzo says when he realizes he’s being impolite with the only person that has helped him in a very long time. In more than one way. “For your help.”

“Don’t mention it,” McCree says and the corner of his lip twitches upward.

“How long until we get there?”

“Less than two hours to the nearest motel,” McCree says. “I need a shower and a bed, I reek.”

“No more than I do,” Hanzo says and chuckles.

“Ya’ smell delicious, honey,” McCree flirts. “You spoke Japanese earlier, right?”

Hanzo blushes when he realizes he’s talking about the profanities that left his lungs when McCree was between his legs sucking him dry and he clears his throat distractedly, ignoring the twitch of his cock at the memory.

“Yes,” Hanzo says. “How’d you know?”

“I have a Japanese friend, well,” McCree lets out a sad sigh. “I had, haven’t seen him in a while.” McCree misses Genji badly since he left to solve his own inner turmoil and he was left behind in a living hell. He ended up leaving Blackwatch too. There was no point in staying alone and watching everything fall apart from the front row.

“A good friend?” Hanzo asks, sensing McCree’s gloomy mood speaking about him.

“A little shit, pain in the ass, ya’ know, but a good fella,” McCree says and chuckles. “I miss him.”

“Reminds me of someone I knew,” Hanzo says and remembers his brother when they were young and naïve and life seemed easy for them. Genji was also a pain in the ass; a very long time ago. “Maybe you will see him again.”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, darlin’,” McCree says. “It ain’t easy.”

Time goes by, sometimes they talk sometimes they don’t but it feels right not to be alone all the time and McCree relishes in the unexpected company. He likes to drive at night, get lost in his thoughts and dwell in the past, but now he glimpses at the passenger seat and suddenly he doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.

“Are ya’ gonna tell me your name, sweetheart?” McCree asks and glimpses at Hanzo.

“I have not decided if I trust you yet,” Hanzo says, amused at the little game. He wants to be someone else, he doesn’t want to be Shimada Hanzo to that man, even if he doesn’t know what being a Shimada means. He wants to be just a regular guy on a road trip and not a kinslayer.

“You sure trusted me with your dick…” McCree mumbles and Hanzo snorts, covering his mouth with a hand and welcoming a faint blush on his cheeks.

 

**Thursday 05:11:46 AM**

McCree’s back hurts from driving and he’s exhausted and in need of a bed when they park outside the motel. He’s been there before, quiet place, nice clean rooms, right what he needs. Hanzo is awake, a good copilot that hasn’t even closed a lid or dozed while he was driving. He gets out of the car and stretches while a grunt leaves his lungs; he’s putting up a show until he notices Hanzo looking at him and arching a questioning eyebrow at the display.

“I book the room while ya’ get our things and lock the car?” McCree says.

“Two rooms,” Hanzo says a suppresses the half-smile that wants to creep up his face.

“Oh, honey,” McCree says. “We can share the room,” McCree gets closer and a hoarse voice says the next words, “and the bed, and much more… if you want.”

“You are persistent,” Hanzo says.

“That’s not a no,” McCree says with a wolfish grin.

“Fine,” Hanzo says and takes the keys that McCree throws at him. “If you have not killed me yet…”

“I’m starting to think you like me, sweetheart,” McCree says, winking and whistling a happy tune while he heads to the reception.

Hanzo chuckles and shakes his head because he cannot believe he’s gotten himself into this situation for a blowjob. He’s not the one to trust a stranger easily or to look for partners in his lonely wandering around the globe, but the cowboy is just easy like Sunday morning.

Opening the trunk, Hanzo finds a brown leather bag that must be the cowboy’s belongings, a toolkit, and a spare blanket. He takes the bag and makes sure he has closed the trunk properly before he checks the other doors. McCree’s hat is lying on the back seat and he fetches for it.

Feels weird to take care of someone else’s things. He could take the car and drive away with all his stuff and he snorts, wondering how the cowboy has survived all these years being so careless. With both his hands occupied, Hanzo wears the hat, locks the car and walks towards the reception door where McCree is already waiting for him twirling a keychain in his forefinger.

“Ya’ look pretty with that on,” McCree says with a shit-eating grin and Hanzo rolls his eyes. The cowboy helps him with his bag but leaves the hat on his head. “Room 314.”

It’s one of those roadside motels that seem out of a movie with a convenient twenty-four/seven diner and a gas station nearby. They walk through the gravel path; it isn’t dawn yet, but the sun menaces to show at any time. Hanzo is already suffering the slumber and needs some hours of sleep after two intense days on the road. McCree opens the door and gets inside, leaving the bag on top of the dresser. Then Hanzo sees it, a double size bed.

“Did they not have a double?” Hanzo says, arching an eyebrow at the cowboy and leaving the hat on top of the dresser too.

“This is a double,” McCree says. “I see plenty of room on that bed.”

“I mean a room with two beds, McCree,” Hanzo says and rolls his eyes. It escapes his mind how this man he barely knows acts as though he has known him for a long time. He’s nothing more than a one-night stand and yet there they are, sharing a room and a bed.

“Not a single one of those available,” McCree says and clicks his tongue playfully while he slumps flat on the bed and sighs, taking off his boots. “Ya’ can go first in the shower.”

“You are foolish to trust strangers like this,” Hanzo says while he rummages in his backpack for his shower things. Hanzo listens to the cowboy’s chuckling at his back when he takes off his jacket and trousers and folds them in a chair nearby.

“Are ya’ going to kill me?” McCree teases. “You look like a yakuza with all that ink, should I be worried?”

Hanzo flinches and curses his fate, his destiny, the one printed in his skin and flesh as much as his heart. He is a Shimada, the mark of his family is forever visible in his chest same as the dragons that lurk his mind and give him strength. His duty and his burden.

“Do not tempt your luck, cowboy,” Hanzo says more curtly than he means and closes the bathroom door behind him.

McCree sits on the edge of the bed and takes off his flannel shirt. He’s going to fall asleep irremediably at how tired he is, so he takes off his jeans and peels the bed to slide right into fresh sheets. The moment his head touches the pillow he dozes into sleep and doesn’t even notice when Hanzo comes back and joins him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go!! Part two <333 Thank you so much for all your nice comments !!! ╭(♡･ㅂ･)و ̑̑
> 
> PS: I've added a few tags feel free to check them if you want <3

**Thursday 11:11:05 AM**

McCree wakes up in a room partially illuminated by the light seeping through the blinds and notices a warm body at his side. This hadn’t happened since an eternity ago and a drowsy smile spreads on his lips. He turns around and finds him. That beautiful stranger, his face buried in the pillow and the sheets leaving exposed part of his back. His hair is all mussed and covers half his face and shoulders. Damn, McCree thinks. He’s even prettier like this, with that peaceful expression on his face and his hair loose.

Fearing he cannot control himself with that morning wood between his legs greeting him, he leaves the bed as quietly as he can and goes to take a well-deserved shower because yes, he should’ve showered last night and he reeks even more now.

The hot stream of water is a like a blessing for his sore muscles, washing the sleepiness and the dust of the road but not the hardness between his legs. That’s a problem whose source is still sleeping placidly on the bed; a problem he wants to take care of while he presses a hand on the cold tiles and the other slides down his navel to wrap itself around his girth.

McCree groans and strokes himself lazily thinking about last night; how that man moaned in the backseat of his car, how that perfect, hard cock tasted and how that hand pushed him to his climax so easily, but then he stops, remembering he still has his sexy partner on the bed and the possibility he wakes up with an itch he will be more than happy to scratch. Time to clean himself real good just in case.

 

**Thursday 12:00:00 AM**

Hanzo wakes up with a racing heart. Nightmares again, he can’t remember but he knows because they startle him every night when he’s caught off guard. Takes him a while to remember where he is, the bed is empty and cold but a familiar cowboy hat is on top of the dresser. The cowboy, Hanzo remembers and sits on the bed.

Last night comes back to him like a knife through his flesh and his stomach clenches at the pleasurable memories and the sweet smile of a stranger that doesn’t know who he is and what he’s done. That’s why he’s being so nice to him because he has yet to discover he’s not worth any smile. And never will.

The bathroom door opens and McCree smiles when their eyes met. Hanzo gasps when he sees the cowboy wearing only a towel around his waist, exposing a fuzzy, strong chest, not muscled but naturally well-shaped. His mechanical arm holds the towel while the other brushes his damp hair away from his face.

“Morning, sunshine,” McCree says and blushes at Hanzo’s intent ogling. “See something ya' like?”

“Come here,” Hanzo says and smirks when the cowboy obeys willingly and ambles towards him.

McCree swallows when he is standing in front of Hanzo and he lets the towel fall unceremoniously at his feet, his prominent erection insultingly close to Hanzo’s face. Hanzo stares at it, inspecting the thick, hard cock and pushing his common sense where it cannot find him. If this is the piece of heaven that belongs to him he will gladly take it.

His hands roam over strongly muscled thighs while he fixes his gaze on those gentle, brown eyes gazing at him from above. McCree is blushing and Hanzo finds it adorable, moving his hands to grasp that tight ass he hasn’t seen yet but he intends to. He kneads it greedily, squeezes and leans forward to kiss the hip joint, still looking at him, relishing in the flexing of the muscles underneath his lips when he nuzzles at the soft fuzz gathered at the hilt of McCree’s length.

“Damn, darlin’,” McCree gasps. “I thought ya’ might wanna go grab some breakfast first.”

“Oh, I am, cowboy,” Hanzo says and lets his tongue out to lick at the base of his cock while a loud groan leaves McCree’s mouth.

McCree rests a hand in Hanzo’s shoulder and admires the tattoo underneath, tracing the twirls and the bright blueish colors of the dragon until that warm tongue traces the outline of his cock from hilt to tip and he is blessed with the image of that gorgeous man, mouth open wide and his swollen tip resting on his tongue.

Hanzo traps him and sucks gently at the tip, twirling his tongue playfully around it and relishing in that gentle thumb tracing circles in his cheek. McCree grips harshly his shoulder with his other hand, not trusting his wobbly legs. It has been a while since Hanzo has done this, and he struggles with the thickness filling his mouth and stretching his lips. But the noises coming out of McCree’s lungs are enough to push himself and swallow him, bobbing his head back and forth and getting him as far as he can.

Hanzo gags but the cowboy doesn’t notice, tilting his hips shyly towards him in unison with his movements. Closing his eyes, Hanzo grasps those butt cheeks and claws his fingers on them while he sinks that huge cock inside his mouth sliding in and out in every movement until the fuzz of McCree tickles his nose. His tongue brushes back and forth his throbbing length and Hanzo moans and hums at how much he is enjoying it.

McCree’s hand is on his head, tangled in his hair, and the movements intensify. His throat aches and he needs air, but he keeps going, swallowing dutifully the spurts of precum while the most bedazzling moans fill the room. McCree tugs at his hair and tilts his hips back trying to leave the warmth of his mouth too soon.

“Wait, wait, honey, please,” McCree says and Hanzo takes him out while gentle strokes of his tongue clean the cock from his spit. “I want ya’ to fuck me.”

Hanzo freezes and his cock twitches inside his boxers. McCree straddles him on the bed, winding his arms around his shoulders, long silky hair brushing against his forearms while he finds that mouth and tastes himself on it. Hanzo surrenders to the dizziness in his head, melts into the kiss and bites his bottom lip before drowning in the cowboy’s warm eyes.

“I would very much like that,” Hanzo whispers into his mouth while he gropes his ass.

McCree kisses again those smirking lips and stands while Hanzo slides down his boxers and discards them on the floor. He rummages in the bag on top of the dresser until he finds what he was looking for: a bottle of lube that luckily hasn’t expired yet, though there’s not much left.

“Are you sure about this?” Hanzo says with a sly smile because he knows the answer while he prowls his way closer to the cowboy.

“Darlin’, I haven’t been surer ‘bout anythin’ in my life,” McCree says and flinches when he feels Hanzo’s hands around his waist.

His lips trace an invisible line of kisses over his shoulders and McCree sighs and relax in his arms while Hanzo smartly steals the bottle from his hand, the other kneading his stomach and up his chest. McCree whines when Hanzo pinches his nipple and twists it between his thumb and forefinger. He pushes back into him and notices he’s naked too. His heart speeds up at how much he wants this, needs this, when a harsh bite at the base of his neck makes him grab the dresser by the edge with white-knuckle force.

“A little rough, you said?” Hanzo whispers into his ear and chuckles, his right knee spreading McCree’s legs wider while the cowboy supports himself on the dresser and groans.

“Damn…” McCree curses.

Hanzo gives one last pinch at that perked nipple and opens the bottle of lube, squeezing enough to coat his fingers generously before placing it on the flat surface. A warm hand on his upper back is enough, McCree takes the hint and leans on his forearms, glancing back at Hanzo and taking a peek at that mischievous smile that clenches his stomach.

When those warm fingers slide up and down his rim, it takes the better of him not to moan loudly into the room but cannot help pushing back into Hanzo’s hand, already craving being filled with something else. When a finger breaches him he curses at the needy whine that leaves his lips.

He loves the burn when Hanzo squeezes a second finger and fucks into him in calculated short movements while those teeth bite at his flesh mercilessly or spare gentle kisses, he never knows. McCree has missed the sex, it has been almost a year since the last time, and playing with himself isn’t nearly the same thing.

That warm breath at his back, those unknown fingers inside him, stretching him open for what’s coming. It isn’t rough, and he chuckles inwardly at the shiver that ran through his spine when he thought Hanzo might take him there with no preparation at all. He would not have minded it but this, the soft treatment, even with the harsh bites and those three fingers spreading inside his tight hole, that’s erasing his resolve and making him want this man even more.

“Sweetheart, I’d scream your name if I knew it,” McCree says a little breathless and earns a bite near his neck while those fingers sink deep inside him and a surge of pleasure overwhelms him.

“You are so tight,” Hanzo whispers. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

McCree curses and pushes back into those fingers. He wants it too. Wants him. Hanzo is bursting with impatience, working him open because he needs to fuck the cowboy badly. His cock brushing at his inner thigh is offering little relief when he feels that stretched muscle yielding to his ministrations.

“Get on the bed,” Hanzo says and withdraws his fingers. “On your fours.”

“Yes, sir,” McCree jokes and turns around to find that beautiful smirking lips framed by a goatee and cannot help to fall into them like the fool he is.

Hanzo receives him gladly, his tongue thrusting into the cowboy’s mouth as eagerly as he wants to shove himself into him. “Bed,” he mumbles into his mouth and McCree chuckles but walks towards the bed obediently, climbing up and leaning on his forearms and knees, glancing back at Hanzo unabashedly.

He is breathless in front of that shameless cowboy waiting for him with his ass up in the air and those warm, gentle eyes begging for some relief. Hanzo slicks his length with the remaining lube while he crawls up the bed, cleaning his hand on the sheets, and positioning himself behind McCree, right between his legs.

It’s been a long time, Hanzo wonders, staring at that stretched hole waiting for him, but there is nothing else he wants more right now than him. The cowboy barely knows him but he trusts him and Hanzo’s heart sinks at that; it is because he doesn’t know me, doesn’t know who I am and it feels good, he thinks.

Hanzo gropes for that ass and presses his thumbs on that well-prepared hole with a grunt, watching it flutter while the cowboy moans and spreads his knees. A faint please leaves his lungs and Hanzo gasps.

“Darlin’, please, I can’t…” McCree murmurs while he rests his forehead on the bed and wrinkles the sheets with both hands.

“You are gorgeous,” Hanzo says, positioning the tip of his cock at his entrance and leaning forward, placing a hand on the bed.

He rocks his hips, and the tip slides right into McCree. He is tight, and the heat is overwhelming as much as the loud moan that fills the room and his ears. His free hand roams the cowboy’s back until he pushes firmly between his shoulder blades, pinning him to the bed.

“More, honey, fuck me real good,” McCree says, arching his back impatiently at him.

Hanzo drives himself inside him, slowly but in one movement until he shoves himself to the hilt in the most intense warmth, leaning forward and breathing heavily on his back and waiting for the cowboy. McCree loves the burn, the lingering pressure and that oh-so-missed sensation of being full with a hot body at his back. He relaxes, breathes deeply and turns his head to a side, the warm sheets caressing his cheek.

That sweet pink blush on his cheeks, the mussed, wet hair, knees trembling and menacing to fail him. Hanzo finds this man so enrapturing he cannot believe he is fucking him, clenching around him so tightly he is breathless.

“I have never seen someone so beautiful,” Hanzo whispers and kisses McCree’s cheek while he glimpses a lovely smile on those parted lips.

“You don’t have to sweet talk me into anything, sugar,” McCree teases but moans when Hanzo pulls out half way and thrusts back into him.

“I am merely stating a fact, McCree,” Hanzo says and this time he pulls out almost all the way and drives himself inside him in one harsh onslaught that steals a whine from the man underneath.

“Call me Jesse,” McCree whispers and buries his face again against the mattress.

A pang of guiltiness hits Hanzo at not having said his name to him yet, but it gets blurred by the intense pleasure of pounding into that perfectly stretched hole. The red creeps up his neck and cheeks because he is so close so soon when all he wants is this man to scream his orgasm into the room.

The noise of his hips slapping repeatedly against those tight butt cheeks fills the room when he thrusts into McCree faster, reading the noises coming out of his lungs and embarrassed by the squeaking of the bed under their weight, but he wouldn’t dare to stop.

McCree muffles the whine biting his lip until he almost draws blood when Hanzo fills him to the brim and pours his warm ragged breath at his nape. He is so close, breaking a sweat from the body covering him, trying to line his ass to get that hard cock hit him right where he needs.

“Right there, sweetheart, don’t stop,” McCree wails.

Hanzo melts whenever the cowboy talks, that sweet ear-filling voice dragging the words, that southern accent speaking wonders beyond the meaning. How not to obey, how not to do exactly what they ask willingly, dutifully, until he emptied himself in him.

“Come for me, Jesse,” Hanzo whispers into his ear, fearing he’d come earlier than wanted.

Hanzo groans, on edge and blissed out, the lingering pressure down his balls is too much but he bites, hard, harsh, at the base of that neck exposed and at his reach and fucks into the cowboy. Hard deep thrusts, same angle, harder, deeper, until he is breathless, panting, and he feels it, the overwhelming clenching of that muscle around his hard cock while McCree comes.

The pain of those teeth around his flesh cannot compete with the man on top of him and that hard length up his ass, his cock twitching in the air and spilling white stripes right on the mattress while he cries out his orgasm. Exactly what he needed.

“Come inside me, darlin’, make a mess of me,” McCree says with a ragged breath when he notices he has stopped moving.

“Fuck,” Hanzo curses.

He kisses the indents of his bite that is surely leaving a bruise, dragging his lips desperately over it and drilling into the cowboy, sloppy short thrusts, frantic and desperate until he shoves himself roughly and comes while an embarrassing moan leaves his lungs. Hanzo falls slack on McCree’s back, still rocking his hips and refusing to leave that cozy warmth filled with his spent.

“Ya’ good?” McCree asks with a funny tune.

Hanzo chuckles and kisses his back, pulling out of him carefully and rolling to a side. He lies flat on his back while a deep exhale leaves his lungs, looking at the cowboy who is still face down on the bed, his head turned to him and the dopiest smile on his lips.

“Better than I can even remember,” Hanzo whispers.

“I know, me too,” McCree says and extends a doubtful hand to touch Hanzo’s arm.

He takes it while the corner of his lips twitches upward, kisses those knuckles lovingly and clasps that big gentle hand into his, glancing one last time at McCree -Jesse- while he closes his eyes. They don’t sleep but they doze for an hour until the rumble of their stomachs is too annoying and they laugh, surrendering to the urge of leaving the bed.

The shower is funny when there are two inside, when the cowboy’s charm intensifies when he’s naked, and wet, and soapy and they help each other between jokes and smiles. Feels good. Too damn good Hanzo’s stomach curls up nice and warm and the feeling accompanies him during breakfast, or lunch, judging by the hour.

McCree likes his coffee black and drinks over three mugs while he wolfs down those sugary pancakes soaked in syrup. Hanzo sticks with eggs and bacon and doesn’t complain when Jesse steals a crispy bacon strip because, according to him, it tastes even better if it isn’t yours. Hanzo chuckles and blushes because this almost seems like a date and he hasn’t been on a date in ages.

 

**Thursday 15:16:09 PM**

The gas station is well stocked, and Hanzo lurks through the aisles of the shop to stock themselves. McCree hasn’t let him pay for the gas so he plans on stocking for everything else. Water, energy drinks, junk food and things to cover a craving when they’re in a car in the middle of nowhere.

Then Hanzo sees it _that_ aisle. He walks in it distractedly and eyes the condoms and lube displayed, picking up a box of a brand he likes -a little too late for that, but just in case- and then a bottle of lube. He weighs the thing in his hand wondering if he’s assuming things. Maybe this morning was a one-time thing. A wonderful, amazing occurrence Hanzo wants to repeat.

“We’re gonna need that,” McCree whispers behind him and he flinches before a snort leaves his nostrils. “I don’t think we’re gonna need those, I like when you make a mess of me.”

“Weren’t you going to wait for me in the car?” Hanzo says and curses the burn on his cheeks at how flustered the cowboy got him with a few words.

“Yeah, but I realized we needed lube,” McCree clicks his tongue. “It's a good thing you’re a resourceful man, darlin’.” He finishes and pats Hanzo’s ass with a wolfish grin while he walks toward the cash register, glancing back and winking at a blushed Hanzo still holding the bottle in his hand.

 

**Thursday 16:55:12 PM**

The unmerciful sun bathes the road and softens the lines on the horizon while Hanzo gazes out the window of the car, his sight lost in the orange colors of the desert and the cacti they leave behind. He looks at McCree, a hand on the wheel and the other taping on his lap the country tune playing on the radio. A plain white shirt that stands out over his tanned skin has replaced his flannel, and Hanzo notices he’s blinking and narrowing his eyes excessively after more than an hour driving.

“Here,” Hanzo says and hands him his aviator glasses. “You cannot drive in this sun without protection.”

“Thank you kindly, sweetheart,” McCree says and puts them on. “How do I look?”

“Charming,” Hanzo teases and reaches for their last bottle of water. Hopefully, after two or three more hours, they’ll find another motel to spend the night.

“Ya’ flatter me, darlin’,” McCree says and takes the water Hanzo offers to drink from it too. “We should stop at the next gas station to take a leak and stretch our legs.”

“That would be nice,” Hanzo says and tries to stretch in the passenger seat with little luck.

McCree indeed looks good with his sunglasses on and that satisfied smirk on his lips by their morning activities. Taking advantage of the distracted cowboy behind the wheel, he watches him, the scruffy beard in need of a trim suits him all too well for Hanzo’s sake and the shirt accentuates those big biceps and strong chest, a little soft around the edges, but overall, sexy.

“Have you figured out what you wanted?” Hanzo asks, hoping not to overstep any boundaries.

“Not yet,” McCree says and sighs deeply. A long silence follows and Hanzo decides to respect his privacy when the cowboy speaks again. “It ain’t easy, ya’ know. I’ve been a lone wolf for too long.”

“I can relate to that,” Hanzo says while a sad smile paints his lips.

“An’ I don’t know if I’m fit anymore for them,” McCree murmurs. “If I ever were.”

“You helped me when I needed it,” Hanzo says because he doesn’t really know what the cowboy is talking about or whom exactly _them_ mean.

“Nah, that was selfish as hell,” McCree says with a mischievous smile.

“How come?”

“I couldn’t say goodbye to ya’ that soon, sweetheart,” McCree says and chuckles. “The thing is, I have a chance now to change my life or I can crawl into a hole an’ disappear,” McCree says.

“Do not that,” Hanzo says. “The world would be at a loss without you.”

“Was that a compliment, honey?” McCree croons and takes a peek at Hanzo. “Oh, ya’ like me.”

“No, I do not, I cannot stand you,” Hanzo teases. “But you give amazing blowjobs, it would be a shame…” McCree’s hearty laugh fills the car and Hanzo cannot help but join him.

“You’re way better than me, darlin’,” McCree says with a low flirty voice.

“Am I?”

Hanzo scoots closer and rests a hand on McCree’s knee while he leans forward, expecting that warm, sweaty skin at his neck, letting his tongue out to taste the salty flavour and place a chaste kiss. His hand has followed a more shameless path up his thigh, squeezing all the way until he nestles the bulge on his jeans.

“Darlin’…” McCree warns but spreads his knees looking for that naughty hand.

A gentle bite at the earlobe while his hand massages a half hard-on fighting the straining of the jeans is enough to elicit a moan from McCree who struggles to pay attention to the road.

“Easy cowboy,” he whispers into his ear.

“Don’t ya give me a boner when the next motel is so far away, sugar,” McCree protests. “That ain’t fair.”

“I will make it up to you,” Hanzo whispers and, with one brief kiss on the cowboy’s lips he sits back and sighs. Hanzo ponders the cowboy’s words, how conflicted he seems but at the same time decided that whatever he needs to do, it is the right thing. He wants to know him better because so far, he is a rarity that puzzles him.

“You will figure it out and you will be okay,” Hanzo says. “Whatever it is you are considering, is it better than what you have now?”

“Not better than meeting ya’, sweetheart,” McCree says and winks at a blushing Hanzo. Joining Overwatch again, after all that happened, now that it is an illegal organization. Why would they want him? He’s been an outlaw with a bounty on his head for far too long; he’s failed Reyes and Jack but damn they had failed him first, and now they’re gone.

Maybe he should stop running away and face reality. Overwatch has called, and he has to answer and not act like a coward. McCree has been in hiding for far too long, and though the message listening to Winston’s voice felt right, it won’t be like it was before everything went to hell.

“What about ya’, honey?”

“I do not know,” Hanzo says. “I have missed my brother for too long.” Hanzo is aware he cannot join Genji as much as he wants his relationship with his brother back. Overwatch is not for him. He won’t fit there, he’s not a hero or a vigilante, he’s an assassin and his past weighs heavily on his back.

“I didn’t know ya’ had a bub,” McCree says.

“I do,” Hanzo smiles at how barely two weeks ago he thought his brother dead. “But I made a huge mistake, to put it mildly.”

“Ya’ can always make amends,” McCree says.

“He’s better off without me,” Hanzo says

“Let him judge that, sweetheart,” McCree says and winks at him.

The cowboy’s optimism makes Hanzo smile but there is no coming back from what he did. No way to atone for his actions, he doesn’t deserve forgiveness or a second chance. He killed Genji, and he has lived the past ten years mourning him. No one can change that, Overwatch won’t change that, if the cowboy knew… he wouldn’t be here with him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!!! ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )
> 
> (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware, too much smut (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ I also added a couple of tags <3

**Thursday 22:38:19 PM**

This motel room seems nicer than the last one and Hanzo hasn’t complained about the king sized bed. He only had to nudge McCree when he asked at the front desk for a room with a waterbed in it. The giggle from the woman was infuriating, but the peck on the cheek and pretending they were a couple made him weak on the knees.

The cowboy is filling his head and heart with things he had thought forgotten, with a connection he hadn’t had in years and he’s scared. Hanzo fears the moment he tells him, not his name, that doesn’t matter, but who he truly is: a Shimada, a kinslayer. A pang of sadness rushes through him when he realizes this little road trip will have an end sooner than later. They will have to part different ways, especially if McCree finally makes up his mind about what he wants to do with his life, or if he decides to pursue Genji and join Overwatch.

All this rambling has Hanzo quiet and distracted during dinner until they are in the room and McCree kisses him, pinning him against the door, confessing how many hours he has wanted to do it but didn’t dare to. How can you dwell on anything with those sinful lips dragging wonders over your mouth?

“You should let me drive tomorrow so you can rest,” Hanzo says while the cowboy undresses and gets ready for a shower to wash away the road.

“Maybe I will, darlin’, my back is killing me,” McCree says and complains. “Nothin’ a hot shower won’t fix.”

“I will do the laundry meanwhile,” Hanzo says and hesitates. “Give me your clothes.”

“Ya’ don’t have to, sweetheart,” McCree says and rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll take care of it in the mornin’.”

“Nonsense,” Hanzo says and arches an eyebrow at the cowboy until he complies and gathers the dirty clothes from the past three days and hands them to him with a faint blush on his cheeks and a thankful smile.

“Much obliged,” McCree says and winks at him, tipping an invisible hat while Hanzo rolls his eyes and leaves him be.

Suddenly the time he’s not spending with the cowboy seems wasted somehow; something he won’t get back and will regret one day when their time together is over and he goes back to these days -because he will- laughing wryly about how he spent an hour doing laundry when he could be wearing out his lips kissing that shameless cowboy.

 

**Friday 00:12:01 PM**

McCree lies on his boxers on the bed, fresh, clean and relaxed after the day on the road when he finds an old western on the television. He’s waiting for Hanzo to get out of the bathroom and fighting the slumber. He doesn’t want to fall asleep yet because he’s been all day thinking about the things he wants to do to that man who yet refuses to tell him his name.

A sigh of frustration leaves his lungs. McCree isn’t naïve, and he’s been around enough to realize he’s probably nothing to that man, but to him, in less than twenty-four hours he’s already in love. It’s always like this for him; he doesn’t know what falling slowly for someone is, he just falls, irremediably dragged down by gravity. _I never learned how to fly_ , he thinks.

But there is something about him, a darkness he can reflect into and doesn’t dare to ask scared to pop the bubble they live in. He dreads the day they part different ways because those eyes will hunt his nights and he’d be the prey. Hanzo gets out of the bathroom, hair damp and dripping down his right shoulder.

McCree smiles, and the western is long forgotten in the background, so forgotten he mutes the television and watches him instead. That naked man with that perfectly trained body that he knows could kill him but doesn’t. He’s seen the bow in the backpack as well as Hanzo has seen Peacekeeper, but they said nothing. They know better than to meddle in those things. He is no stranger to what Hanzo probably is: a mercenary or a bounty hunter. Damn, for a moment McCree thought maybe he was hunting him to collect his bounty and he would be so fucked if that was the case. Easy catch for that man.

Hanzo dries himself off unabashedly, meeting his gaze from time to time because he knows he is watching and doesn’t mind. The dragon wrapped around his arm clenches his stomach but it is beautiful. McCree guesses it reflects an unspoken fate printed forever not only in his skin but also his soul.

McCree eyes that mesmerizing creature crawling up the bed and on top of him, taking his lips as though he is entitled to. He never asks for permission, says nothing, he just does it and McCree melts every single time.

“Why won’t ya’ tell me your name?” McCree whispers into his mouth, fearful.

“I do not wish to be that man anymore,” Hanzo murmurs while McCree’s hands trail a lewd path down his back to his naked ass.

“I like the man you are, darlin’,” McCree says and kisses him again, kneading those exposed butt cheeks eagerly.

A conversation is not what he wants right now, so he lets it go, hides in those velvety lips, cups that ass and makes Hanzo rut against him until they are both breathless and hard like two teenagers in heat. McCree threads his fingers in that mussed, wet hair and moans when Hanzo’s tongue assails his demandingly, leaving him wanting more when he stops to nibble his lips.

“Darlin’…” McCree whispers. “Let me eat you up.”

“What?” Hanzo asks and blushes.

“Sit on my face, on your fours I don’t care, just let me make ya’ feel good,” McCree says with a raspy voice while two teasing fingers stroke Hanzo’s rim.

“Where do you want me, cowboy?” Hanzo says with a mischievous smile, his racing heart thumping in his chest.

“Lie down for me,” McCree whispers and kisses his cheek lovingly while he drags his lips to Hanzo’s ear, making him shudder. “I want my tongue up your ass so bad, sweetheart.”

Hanzo lets out a hearty moan, and the red comes up his cheeks when he changes the comfortable warmth of the cowboy’s body for cold sheets. His hard length brushes against the mattress until he kneels and lifts his ass, following the kind hands of McCree while he positions himself between his legs.

“So pretty, darlin’,” McCree says and Hanzo feels his breath on his butt cheeks.

McCree scoots closer, sparing kisses and love bites on his cheeks while he tangles his arms around Hanzo’s thighs and brings him down. Hanzo yields to those hands and waits impatiently for that promised tongue.

“Cold feet,” McCree teases when he notices Hanzo’s cold feet against his sides.

“Jesse, please, I can’t…” Hanzo babbles, embarrassed but willingly waiting.

“Let me do my thing, honey,” McCree says, spreading him and stroking with his tongue Hanzo’s exposed rim eliciting a loud moan.

Hanzo arches his back and buries his face into the mattress, relishing in that lazy tongue sliding back and forth his ass. The cowboy is taking his sweet time with him, outlining his ass so painfully slow, the tip teasing right into his hole for a moment before tracing another circle, and those hands kneading his cheeks and pinning him in place.

“Do ya’ like it, my dear?” McCree whispers and blows his warm breath on him.

“Do not stop now,” Hanzo moans. “You feel so good.”

McCree buries his face on him and licks him in fast deep strokes that tease to get inside him but not nearly enough. Then he slows down, pushes his tongue into him and Hanzo moans with impatience. The cowboy does it again, and again until Hanzo loses track of time, his cock leaking on the mattress and endless whines leaving his mouth and filling the room. When the cowboy isn’t fucking his ass with his tongue, he’s licking his balls and it’s driving him insane.

He’s relentless, working him open with his tongue darting in and out of his ass in short thrusts and then gliding up and down, smearing spit all over him. Then McCree frees one of his hands and a naughty finger slides right inside him. That filthy cowboy has a finger and his sinful tongue up his ass and all he can do is whine and bury his flustered face in the mattress while he pushes back into him.

“Fuck, cowboy,” Hanzo says. “I did not know your tongue had more talents aside from carrying an endless banter.”

McCree chuckles and spanks gently Hanzo’s butt cheek with his mechanical arm, easing the sting with his palm after and reveling in the faint wail that leaves Hanzo’s mouth. He doesn’t complain so McCree tempts his luck and does it again, adding a second finger in his tight, hot ass.

“I thought ya’ liked my tongue,” McCree teases and squeezes his butt cheek, now turning a soft pink before another slap follows. Hanzo is definitely not complaining but looking for his hand with his ass.

“I like it more in my ass than when you use it to speak,” Hanzo jokes, suppressing a chuckle until a harsh spank makes him yelp and flinch.

“That’s what ya’ get for being mean, sweetheart,” McCree says and kisses his pink reddish skin marked by his hand. Hanzo moans and bucks his hips back, delighted by something he didn’t know he’d like.

The lingering burning of the two fingers fucking into him without lube has him thrilled, but not as much as how he is enjoying that cold sturdy hand slapping his skin even though he has turned another shade of red at that. Face and ass. Hanzo wants McCree to do it again but doesn’t dare to ask, and before he can protest, the cowboy leaves him empty.

“Don’t move, darlin’,” McCree says and goes to get the recently acquired lube from the bag, opening it and squeezing some on his fingers on his way back to the bed. The cowboy chuckles softly and Hanzo glances back at him.

“What?” Hanzo asks arching a questioning eyebrow.

“Ya’ got my hand marked on your ass,” McCree says and kneels on the bed, leaning forward to kiss Hanzo’s soft and heated skin.

“Jesse,” Hanzo murmurs and McCree melts at how his name sounds on those lips and lands a mean bite on the other butt cheek until he leaves the indents of his teeth and red marks around them. Hanzo flinches and moans, almost forgetting what he wanted to say. “How do your _other_ fingers feel?”

McCree gasps, smearing the lube on Hanzo’s rim and cleaning the excess on the sheets. He leans on his right arm and stares at that beautiful round ass. He likes his prosthetic, he can feel with it as though it was an ordinary hand, though it’s usually cold it warms up quickly and well, he likes it when he uses it on himself. “Wanna find out, honey?”

“Yes,” Hanzo says. “But... spank me again,” he whispers against the bed.

“I didn’t catch that, darlin’,” McCree lies while his mechanical arm rubs Hanzo’s butt, encouraging an answer.

“I said spank me, cowboy,” Hanzo says, glancing back at him. The corner of his lip twitches upward when he spots McCree’s wolfish grin, and he knows he had perfectly heard him the first time.

McCree lifts his hand and a soft slap lands on his butt cheek, but Hanzo glares at him and he repeats the operation a little faster and a little harder. A yelp leaves Hanzo’s mouth at the same time his hand spanks his abused skin. A gentle rubbing on his flesh follows while McCree kisses the dimples of his back.

He soaks his mechanical fingers in lube and pushes two inside. Hanzo moans and stands on his forearms. They’re warm but hard, like nothing he has experienced before. He clenches around them but relaxes when McCree pushes them in and out of him at a leisurely pace, leaving him time to adjust. But when the burn recedes the cowboy adds another, and he moans. He has missed this, being full, and he wants him tonight fulfilling his needs first with those fingers, and then with that thick, intimidating cock.

“More,” Hanzo says. “I want you.”

“Darlin’, there’s nothing I want more than that,” McCree says while his fingers spread and snatch together inside that tight muscle. “But I gotta work you open, I ain’t small, ya’ know.” Hanzo moans as a protest but rests his head on the bed while he looks back at him.

Working with his left hand is easy, he’s used to doing it to himself, and McCree, as he’s been doing all night, is taking his sweet time getting that ass ready for him. His throbbing cock is aching and longing a soft touch. The cowboy fucks Hanzo faster with his fingers, eager to shove himself there; he has no doubts about what he wants tonight; not when all that leaves his mouth is his name muffled by moans and whines all directed at him and his ministrations.

“Cowboy, you better get inside me soon or…” Hanzo says when McCree chuckles and withdraws his fingers.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” McCree says, sitting on his calves on the bed.

McCree is blessed with the most enrapturing image of Hanzo’s back stretching while he straightens on the bed, glancing back at him while the black sea of his hair falls down his left shoulder and those eyes full of lust and lascivious desires look right through him.

Hanzo crawls back on the bed, spreading his knees at both sides of the cowboy’s and supporting the back of his thighs right into his lap. McCree grunts and follows those feline movements with needy hands that hoard for themselves Hanzo’s flesh, touching and squeezing every inch at their reach. His eyes are fixed on that gaping hole trying to clench into thin air while his hands have returned to the safety of those abused butt cheeks. Pink and red mixed with the marks of his teeth. He swallows, swearing to himself one day he’s gonna make a work of art of that peachy ass.

“What are you waiting for, cowboy?” Hanzo says and smirks, offering him the lube.

McCree has no words, he moans while his hand coats his cock with lube and then positions the tip at his stretched muscle, playfully smearing his precum there and eliciting a sweet, dreamy moan from Hanzo’s lips. He pushes the head, and it slides beautifully inside Hanzo’s heat right in front of his eyes.

“Damn,” McCree curses. “Ya’ alright?”

Hanzo gasps and pushes his hips back, getting another inch of that massive cock inside, stretching him how he’s never been before. It’s been a long time, he thinks and smiles while he straightens, his hands on his own thighs while McCree supports his ass trying to prevent Hanzo to take his cock all in one go.

“Fuck, Jesse,” Hanzo says. “You are big.”

“We have all night, darlin’,” McCree whispers on his ear and struggles with Hanzo’s weight while the man sits on his lap and sinks his cock inside him to the hilt. “Sweetheart…” he gasps. Hanzo moans and tilts his head back until both their cheeks are touching and the cowboy’s lips caress his jaw.

McCree’s hands let go of his ass and travel up to Hanzo’s stomach until he cups that puffy chest into them and squeezes. He spare kisses down his neck and shoulders, and they don’t move, they unwind and wait for their speeding hearts and ragged breaths to calm down. Hanzo’s hair falls on his back and tickles him. His cock is tightly enveloped by him. McCree cannot wait to move, to fuck into that gorgeous creature that has him mesmerized.

“You’re a dream, my dear,” McCree says. “I wish I knew your name…”

Hanzo turns his head and traps his lips into his own, silencing a truth that bursts to leave his lungs. He doesn’t want to be Shimada Hanzo anymore, he wants to be with that man in this piece of heaven they’ve built and nothing else.

McCree rocks his hips gently while his hands pinch both Hanzo’s nipples playfully. He sees the red on Hanzo’s neck and cheeks and smiles briefly before his warm mouth sucks at his neck, leaving pink and purple bruises to remember this tomorrow as the undeniable proof he was there.

“Jesse,” Hanzo says and tangles and arm around McCree’s head to thread his fingers in his hair while he revels in the fullness of that thick cock shoved to the hilt in him.

“I’m here, darlin’,” McCree whispers, one of his hands kneading that perked nipple while the other trails a lascivious path down Hanzo and wraps around his girth. Long strokes keeping in step with the movement of his hips steal a moan from Hanzo.

Those dreamy noises that leave his mouth, complaining about his abused nipples and the big cock on his ass, but pleasant, eager for more, asking for more. McCree is overwhelmed, wanting nothing more than to please that man on his lap completely under his mercy. So he fucks into him faster at every moan, deeper at every whine, fearing his own climax outruns him and cursing the burning of his thighs by the effort.

“More, I’m so close,” Hanzo babbles, with McCree’s breath on his neck while the onslaughts of the cowboy slap his backside.

“I gotcha,” McCree whispers.

Hanzo notices McCree’s mindful thrusts while he pushes in and pulls out of him; Hanzo tugs at his hair while he moans his name into the room. What’s wrong with him? Acting this weak and needy in front of him. The cowboy is breaking every single wall and his resolve whispering sweet nothings and fucking him senseless.

McCree is breaking a sweat, wrapping an arm around Hanzo’s chest to support him and keep him close while he shoves himself repeatedly inside Hanzo, dreading the end of this wonderful moment. He kisses his neck, loves the harsh hold on his hair while he moves his hand faster, pumping Hanzo’s cock at the same time he fucks him.

“Come inside me,” Hanzo whispers.

“Right when ya’ do, darlin’,” McCree says and squeezes his cock at the tip while his onslaughts become frantic, erratic but deeper every time, refusing to leave his warmth for long. “I’m gonna fill ya’ real good, but come for me first, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Hanzo moans and yields to those words that tickle his ears and curls up his stomach nice and warm. McCree pounding into him while that hand envelopes his cock and moves in unison is overwhelming and Hanzo comes, releasing his spent on McCree’s hand in a white stream at the same time his orgasm flashes through him in a surge.

McCree strokes him until his warm spent drips down his fingers and that hole clenches around him painfully, but he doesn’t stop his onslaughts, and two more thrusts into Hanzo sends him, as promised, over the edge while he fills him to the brim with everything he’s got. He pants, and grunts, reveling in this moment he wants to remember for the rest of his life.

Hanzo falls slack on his chest and McCree hugs him with both arms, peppering kisses on his shoulder and whispering a blue streak of pet names just for him. “Hanzo,” he says. “Call me Hanzo.”

McCree chuckles and tackles him on the bed, arms and legs tangled around that man in a mess of limbs, wet kisses, and bites while both laugh, flustered and still out of breath. Hanzo rolls over him and lies on his chest and McCree tries to hide the dopey smile plastered on his face to no avail.

“Even your name’s pretty, sweetheart,” he says. “How are ya’?”

“Sore,” Hanzo says and snorts.

“Yeah, my thighs are killing me,” McCree teases and he earns a bite on his nipple.

“I want to do that to you,” Hanzo says.

“Spank me?” McCree wiggles his eyebrows playfully risking another harsh bite from Hanzo.

“No, the other thing,” Hanzo says and slides his tongue over the poor nip with a sly smile. “I want to eat you.” Hanzo crawls up to kiss the cowboy’s lips. “I want to have my little revenge, and perhaps I will let you _spank_ me again.”

“Does your pretty ass hurt, darlin’?” McCree teases and gropes for that ass still covered by a pinky shadow and surely oozing his spent. The thought makes a faint blush appear on his cheeks and he pushes a finger in his hole just to confirm his suspicions, cleaning his hand on the sheets after.

“Not as much as yours will when I tie you up just for me,” Hanzo says with a hoarse voice and a devilish grin that clenches McCree’s stomach.

“I’d let ya’ do that and much more, sweetheart,” McCree says and lifts his left arm in the air invitingly. “C’mere, let’s get some shut-eye.”

Hanzo nestles in the space McCree has made for him, enjoying the warmth of his body, ignoring the stickiness down his navel -not a chance he’d leave the bed right now- and loving that strong mechanical hand stroking his shoulder. McCree’s heart beats strongly, and he falls asleep listening to it as though it was the melody that has him going on.

 

**Friday 03:18:55 AM**

Less than two hours of sleep and McCree’s eyes open wide in the darkness of the room. Hanzo is placidly sleeping by his side, huddled against his chest. The cowboy’s heart sinks. He has to tell him the truth about who he is before it’s too late. He is an outlaw and a killer, not just a cowboy on a road trip.

He frees his arm and leaves the bed as carefully as he can, putting on a shirt and rummaging on his leather bag for a lighter and cigarettes. A filthy habit that helps him sleep and ease his mind. He leaves the room and closes quietly the door. The lights of the parking lot of the motel blind him and he grunts.

Leaning forward on the railing, he lights a cigarette and takes a long drag, warm smoke filling his lungs. _Hanzo… cute_. He smiles thinking about the last day. He never thought this road trip would gift him with Hanzo and he dreads the day when he leaves to join Overwatch. Soon, way too soon. McCree has decided that’s what he wants to do. It is the right thing, and even if he’s damaged and messed up after the loneliness from the past years, he can still honor the things he once believed in. Seeing the old gang again fills his heart with joy too, but now everything is scary when he has to leave Hanzo behind.

“You cannot sleep?” A raspy voice asks behind him.

“Nah, I just can’t put my mind to rest,” McCree says and offers the smoke to Hanzo who takes it gladly and takes a puff.

“You have made up your mind, haven’t you?” Hanzo says with a knowing smile and leans on the railing next to him.

“Yeah, how d’ya’ know?” McCree asks.

“You are smiling,” Hanzo says and smirks.

“That’s because of you’, darlin’,” McCree croons and pushes Hanzo gently with his shoulder.

“Still a sweet talker,” Hanzo says, taking another drag and handing back the smoke.

McCree chuckles and they stare at the deserted parking lot. The cold breeze of the night taking away the slumber but making him want to come back to the safety of a bed warmed by them.

“Tonight was something else, right?” McCree says and takes a peek at the sweet smile spreading on Hanzo’s lips. “Or is it just me?”

“Yes, it was,” Hanzo says and leans his head on McCree’s shoulder. “Something I will never forget.”

“I’m damaged goods, sweetheart,” McCree murmurs.

Hanzo cups McCree’s face and kisses him like he’s never kissed someone before. Sad, knowing, a kiss he’d want for himself but one he’s giving away to someone who deserves it. The cowboy may be damaged, but he is a good man who has settled in his heart and mind. He wants to tell him, tries to tell him while his lips brush that partly opened mouth and press into them lovingly.

“Come to bed,” Hanzo mumbles against his mouth. He will do what he cannot say.

“Hanzo…” McCree mumbles, tossing the cig and following him into their room. The cowboy will obey freely any request that dares to leave his mouth.

Hanzo peels his clothes, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor and then helps him, pulling up his shirt and swooping down his boxers. McCree falls for those lips, attracted to them by a magnet, biting and licking and moaning his needs into that man. He lifts him off the floor, grips his ass while Hanzo wraps his legs around his waist and his arms around his shoulders while he walks them both to the bed.

The mattress bounces by their weight when they fall into it. Hanzo’s back flat on the mattress and McCree on top of him nibbling at his neck and trailing a path to his chest while Hanzo tangles his hands in his hair and pets him lovingly. The taste of the tobacco still lingering in his lips.

“I gotta be dreaming,” McCree mumbles while he drags his lips over a nipple below a shadow of ink.

“If this is a dream I do not want to wake up,” Hanzo whispers and moans when a warm tongue laps around his left nipple.

McCree bites and sucks at the tip, his thumb circling the other while he revels in Hanzo squirming underneath, arching his back and petting his hair. He cannot walk away from him, McCree knows, he has found happiness in the most unexpected place of all and now… He sighs, kissing his way to the other nipple, licking and biting Hanzo’s skin and trapping the perked tip into his lips.

“Hanzo, darlin’,” McCree says, distracted with that puffy chest he wants to kiss and bite and lick until it is pink and red marked by his teeth.

The sound of the bottle of lube opening distracts him and he hovers over Hanzo while his hand wraps around his hard length. He shudders when the cold lube touches his sensitive skin but Hanzo’s warm hand strokes him and the uncomfortable sensation fades away. The cowboy grunts when his hand stops and Hanzo smears the remaining lube down on him.

McCree kisses Hanzo’s cheek and follows his arm with his hand until he finds he has two fingers inside himself; he pushes another one with him, feeling the stretched muscle by their previous activities. That inviting warmth is overwhelming, and he puffs in his neck and rocks his hips forward, wanting nothing more than to shove himself there. Hanzo pulls out his fingers.

“Ya’ good?” McCree whispers.

“Be gentle,” Hanzo whispers and spreads his legs further apart while McCree scoots closer and gropes for his ass with one hand.

McCree finds his way inside him, tilting his hips until the tip breaches him and Hanzo moans. He leans on his left forearm, Hanzo’s legs bent by the knee at both sides of his body. Invitingly, perfect, willingly waiting for him. He slides the tip in and out slowly while he fixes his gaze in those infinite black eyes looking right through him.

But Hanzo’s hands go to grip his ass and push him inside. McCree yields, spreading his knees further apart on the bed and resting his weight over him, his forehead pressing on Hanzo’s, breathing the same air while he is buried deep inside him.

“Yes,” Hanzo moans. “Right there.”

“Hanzo…” McCree says, rocking his hips in a slow pace.

“You are going to wear out my name,” Hanzo teases.

“Hanzo, Hanzo, Hanzo, Hanzo…” McCree mumbles and chuckles against his mouth until Hanzo thrusts his tongue into him to shut him up.

McCree’s breathless, fighting that tongue with his own, gripping that glorious butt cheek and leaving bruises in the shape of his fingertips while he drives himself in and out of him. He’s had nothing like this, like him, and his heart breaks at the mere thought of never seeing Hanzo again.

Hanzo melts in that warm breath, in that wet, sloppy kiss and the weight of the man on top of him. He yields to the lingering pressure down his loins and his hard cock trapped between their stomachs, getting a much needed friction. Hanzo knows he will come soon and untouched with that thick cock inside him rubbing and putting pressure right where he needs, sending jolts of pleasure that make him tremble.

“Jesse, don’t stop, please,” Hanzo mumbles against his mouth, freeing the cowboy from his demanding kiss. He wouldn’t dare to stop, he keeps going, fucking into him in a steady pace because McCree doesn’t care if he comes or not, he only wants to do this, now, ever, forever.

“Hanzo…” McCree says and buries his face in the crook of his neck. “Where have you been all my life? Where?”

Hanzo melts at those words. They are so true it hurts. His heart swoons with a warmth long forgotten, his body trembles and he cannot help but gasp and close his eyes tightly to prevent the tears he doesn’t want to shed.

“I am here,” Hanzo says. “Even if it’s too late.”

“It’s never too late, darlin’,” McCree whispers, and a moan leaves his mouth after.

McCree is lost in his lovemaking and he bites his tongue to not confess he’s deeply in love with that stranger he doesn’t really know but one that he sees through. A bond he’s never experienced before, something unique, perfect, theirs. McCree rocks his hips faster, short thrusts guided by the faint moans and whines that leave Hanzo’s lips, by those hands pushing him down and that welcoming warmth enveloping him whole.

Hanzo clenches around him, comes hard and sudden between them while he whines his name into the room, a cry barely unintelligible by his ragged breath. McCree follows with desperate onslaughts that shove his cock deep inside him until he spills himself and overflows that abused ass filled only by him.

They say nothing, words cannot do justice to what they feel so they tangle into each other in the safety of their naked bodies. McCree cuddles him as though Hanzo would want to escape from those safe, strong arms, and he pours words in Japanese the cowboy can’t understand but speak about hope, and maybe love.

“Me too,” McCree murmurs before the slumber gets the better of him and he falls asleep holding the best thing that has happened to him in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too much feels? I love these boys to bits ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )
> 
> I hope you're enjoying this so far ! I'm so excited about the last chapter ₍₍ ◝(●˙꒳˙●)◜ ₎₎ I think I will post it by Saturday! <333


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter yey!! ٩(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و It's a bit longer than I expected <3

**Friday 11:03:14 AM**

Hanzo wakes up but keeps his eyes closed, a certain cowboy has slumped on his back and he’s sweaty. A warm breath on his neck and a big arm around his waist holding him close. He knows he’s overslept because he has that tickle of sleeping too much and too well, not tired at all, no nightmares, though a bit sore.

Taking advantage of the deeply asleep cowboy, Hanzo snuggles into him, realizing he has never spent so much time with anyone since he left his home. In Hanamura he used to be with Genji all the time, or his father, but after _that day_ he has been alone. Hanzo fears getting too attached to McCree -too late for that- and squirms out of his hold, regretting it immediately when the cowboy grunts and rolls to his side looking for the missing body.

Hanzo runs both his hands through his hair and goes to the bathroom. A morning shower will clear his mind and ease his heart. With all the distractions he hasn’t thought about his brother’s offer, but yesterday when he asked Jesse if what he had to do was better than what he has right now he realized two things.

First, that a life with Genji is better than the last ten years mourning and digging his own grave working as an assassin, though the Overwatch part he isn’t so sure about yet and, secondly, that he has fallen for the cowboy and taking Genji’s offer means to leave him behind. He curses himself and his weak, lonely heart that wants to believe the cowboy feels the same for him but then fear and experience fog his judgment. The door of the bathroom opens.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” McCree says and Hanzo hears the lid of the toilet.

“Do not…!” Hanzo says, but it is too late, the cowboy flushes and his warm stream is now a pour of ice-cold water that soon recedes and goes back to normal.

“M’sorry!” McCree says and chuckles, moving away the curtain and getting inside the shower with him.

“You did that on purpose,” Hanzo hisses and tries to fight the cowboy huddling in the small space with him, trying to steal the stream of water all hands and kisses.

“I’ll be quick and get us breakfast,” McCree says, kissing Hanzo’s neck and wrapping his arms around him to turn themselves around, positioning himself under the showerhead.

“Jesse!” Hanzo says, wet and cold, while the cowboy chuckles.

“You were taking your sweet time,” McCree teases while he quickly soaps his body. “Why are ya’ all moody?”

Hanzo watches the water pouring down his chest and getting mixed with the foam, those strong hands that he’d want on his body rub his skin while the cowboy tilts his head back and washes his hair. Hanzo swoons in the sight, in that lewd path his fuzz traces down his navel right into that hard length standing firmly in front of him.

McCree gasps when he feels a hand around him and open his eyes to find Hanzo looking intently at him. He reaches for the handle and turns off the water before Hanzo pins him to the tiles.

“Cold,” McCree murmurs and shivers.

“You cannot get in the shower with this,” Hanzo says and squeezes. “And expect me not to do something about it.”

“That happens when I see ya’ naked, sweetheart,” McCree says with a trembling voice because that hand is stroking him mercilessly fast and all he can do his hold himself with an arm around Hanzo’s waist and another gripping his wrist and trying to slow down that skillful hand.

“Do you want me to stop?” Hanzo asks.

“Don’t ya’ dare, darlin’,” McCree says, releasing his hand to cup Hanzo’s face and kiss him.

Hanzo pushes his tongue inside his mouth and relishes in the faint moan that escapes the cowboy. His hand, wrapped around his girth, strokes him firmly pursuing only one thing. Hanzo wishes there were enough space to kneel and go down on him, but the cowboy is so close already, tilting his hips and fucking into his hand, committed to a sloppy kiss until he yields and hides his face in the crook of his neck.

“Hanzo, Hanzo…” McCree whispers.

He melts at how his name sounds in the cowboy’s sugary voice while he bites his neck, keeping the pace on his hand and adjusting to the jerking of McCree’s hips. He lures him to an unavoidable orgasm that crushes him too soon. A loud grunt leaves his mouth while McCree’s cock twitches in his hand and pearlescent spurts land on his thigh.

“I’ll miss you,” Jesse mumbles, catching his breath.

“Not yet,” Hanzo whispers and turns the water on again, letting the cowboy wash quickly before he earns again his place under the showerhead.

“Let me take care of ya’, honey,” McCree says and presses his chest at his back while his hand travels down to an ignored half hard-on, but Hanzo chuckles.

“You are insatiable, cowboy,” he teases and turns around to kiss briefly those swollen lips and refuse politely his offer. “Wait for me at the diner. Do you think they will have lemon pie?” McCree chuckles and moves his hands to cup Hanzo’s dreamy ass while he drowns in those black voids in the haze of his orgasm.

“I’ll try my best to provide for ya’, sweetheart,” McCree says, kissing him again and stepping out of the shower a little happier than he got inside.

“And I am driving today,” Hanzo says and can’t hear McCree’s quip but that hearty laugh washes his gloomy mood away, at least for a while.

 

**Friday 16:34:56 PM**

The cowboy is quieter than usual. Hanzo notices and takes a peek at the passenger seat to find McCree slumped on the seat, his hat covering partially his face and his arms folded over his chest. Hanzo smiles. He’s sleeping.

Driving is relaxing, the endless road, the lack of other cars and another state they will soon leave behind give him a good excuse to think about his life. A shadow covers his face when he realizes he has to be honest with Jesse and tell him who he is because if they have to say goodbye to each other at least he wants him to remember him for what he is and not a lie. Perhaps it will make easier their farewell if the cowboy realizes he’s a lowlife that killed his brother in cold blood. It’ll break his heart but, then again, there’s not much left to break.

“Woah,” McCree says and groans. “I dozed off.”

“It’s fine,” Hanzo says and chuckles at the stretching noises of the cowboy. “There is a gas station nearby if you want to stop.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” McCree says and yawns.

“I tell you my name and you keep calling me all those ridiculous pet names,” Hanzo says and arches an eyebrow at McCree’s smug smile.

“I got used to it,” McCree says. “Besides, they’re not ridiculous, that’d be calling you… honey bun.”

“Please, don’t,” Hanzo snorts.

“My little buttercup? Oh, I know, my candy stick,” McCree chuckles and wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“I will toss you in the middle of the highway if you don’t stop, Jesse,” Hanzo threatens but the twitch on the corner of his lip betrays him.

“You wouldn’t do that sweet peach,” McCree says with a devilish grin. “But I got the perfect one for ya’: sugar tits.” The cowboy laughs until Hanzo glares at him and McCree lifts his hands in the air as a sign of peace.

“You are impossible,” Hanzo huffs.

“Oh, c’mon, sweetheart,” McCree says and kisses his cheek. “Don’t look all blue at me, what am I gonna do without your sweet sugar tits.”

Hanzo nudges him while a grunt of pain leaves McCree’s lungs and interrupts the guffaw that fills the inside of the car. He finally gives up and laughs too, and when he turns his head to look at the smiling cowboy his heart skips a beat at those watery eyes, that gentle, sincere shape of his lips and the faint blush on his cheeks. His gaze focuses on the road again and Hanzo curses inwardly. He is so screwed he doesn’t even know where to start.

 

**Friday 18:15:01 PM**

McCree’s cowboy boots make a funny noise over the gravel path to the bathroom of the gas station. Hanzo is filling up the tank and cleaning the dust and mosquitos splattered on the windshield. They both know their trip will have an end eventually, but neither of them wants to talk about it nor the familiarity they treat each other now.

He walks in the dubiously spotless bathroom because they still have to drive for about three hours to the next roadside motel. The cold water washes his hands and he dries them up with a paper towel that he tosses in a trash can nearby the exit and then he sees it, mocking him hanging in the door of the bathroom.

A most wanted warning with his face on it, a little outdated, though. McCree hurries to take it off and crumples it inside his back pocket. He has to tell Hanzo and they have to leave this place before someone recognizes him.

McCree rushes out of the bathroom, looking at both sides, worried of finding an old gang member, someone that could recognize him. It puzzles him how the Deadlock Gang still has power this far from his territory. He approaches Hanzo and squeezes his shoulder.

“We gotta leave, it ain’t safe here,” McCree says and Hanzo frowns.

“I already paid for the gas,” Hanzo says without questioning his words. “Let’s go.”

He and McCree get in the car and only when they’re at a safe distance McCree sighs and takes out the poster from his pocket. He’s been dreading this moment, but well, there is no better time than the present.

“Something the matter?” Hanzo asks with a furrow of concern between his eyebrows that is more evident when he takes the sunglasses off.

“I gotta tell ya’ somethin’,” McCree says, his eyes fixed on the paper in his hands.

Hanzo swallows and stops the car along the shoulder. The sun casts long shadows that stretch in front of them like the long exhale that leaves the cowboy’s lungs. Hanzo waits, worried about the serious expression on Jesse’s face looking at the piece of paper in his hands.

“There’s a bounty on my head,” McCree says and hands him the evidence while he runs a hand through his hair. “I was a Deadlock Gang member when I was younger and they didn’t take it well when I left and hunt them down.”

“I have more money on my bank account than what they ask for you,” Hanzo says and snorts.

“Hey,” McCree protests. “These people don’t play games.”

“I am sorry,” Hanzo says and cups Jesse’s face. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Damn,” McCree says and grasps Hanzo’s wrist to keep that balmy hand close to him. “I’m a killer, an outlaw, an’ I didn’t mean to lie to ya’ ‘bout it, just…” he sighs. “Ya’ don’t introduce yourself like that, ya’ know?”

“It’s okay, cowboy,” Hanzo says. “I have seen your weapon and I am not naïve,” Hanzo says. After so many years on his own, he knew McCree had secrets, maybe not a juicy bounty on his head but he suspected they were more alike than one would initially have thought. Now Hanzo wonders about his past, about who McCree really is and if he’ll have the courage to ask him.

“I didn’t want to scare you off, sweetheart,” McCree says.

“Jesse, I am a mercenary and I worked as a hired assassin some years ago,” Hanzo says. “I am a killer and have demons of my own.”

“It was that, or you had an archery hobby,” McCree says and a half-smile spreads on his lips.

McCree wants to tell him about Overwatch, about Blackwatch, the black ops, the dubious legality of his actions and how the gang is the worst part of his life but not the only one he’s ashamed of. But that is not his true to tell, at least not yet, not if they will walk away from each other in the end. The comeback of Overwatch is a secret that doesn’t belong to him. As much as he doesn’t want to ask Hanzo for more than he wants to tell him; that strange tattoo, his roots, why a bow? You are entitled to your secrets, he wryly thinks.

“As you said the other night,” Hanzo says, still worried about those sad eyes, and runs a thumb along McCree’s cheek. “I like the man you are.”

McCree leans forward and presses his forehead into that man in front of him who won’t even judge him for what he was or what he is. He feels blessed as though he has found a rare thing he should not let slip from his arms.

“Are you still worried that we may run into them?” Hanzo says. “Because they will regret crossing my path, I can assure you that.”

McCree smiles and kisses those paid of himself lips, not doubting for a moment how lethal Hanzo truly is, in fact, he’s curious and strangely attracted to him because of that too, as though he needed another reason to fall deeper for that man.

“I was worried ‘bout your reaction,” McCree confesses with a dopey smile.

“Silly cowboy,” Hanzo says, wearing back his sunglasses and ready to drive into a soon to be a starry sky, leaving behind the sun and the cowboy’s worries.

Hanzo feigns his peace of mind because deep inside he is getting ready to tell Jesse about him, about his brother, his sins, everything. He deserves to know who he was because that has made him who he is now. He is a Shimada, a yakuza, a kinslayer, a broken man with a broken heart that will never atone for his actions.

 

**Friday 23:34:12 PM**

This is by far the shittiest motel they’ve been into and it’d be kind of depressing if they were alone, but when the cowboy sits on the mattress and bounces checking the bed springs are, indeed, loud and squeaky; they burst into laughter.

The room is far from cozy, so McCree assaults the vending machines for a rustled up late snack and drags Hanzo outside to sit under the stars on the hood of the car. Half the light posts in the parking lot don’t work so a full moon is their main source of light. It’d be almost romantic if they weren’t in the middle of nowhere and closer to the East Coast than any of them wants.

“What’s eating ya’ up, sweetheart?” McCree says and takes another gulp at the warmed-up beer in his hand.

“I have to come clean with you too, Jesse,” Hanzo says and sighs. There’s no going back now. “Remember my brother?” Hanzo says and McCree nods. “For ten years I thought he was dead, but he contacted me a few weeks ago and wants me to join his cause.”

“That’s a good thing, ain’t it?” McCree says and frowns. “Ya’ got a second chance.”

“One I do not deserve but one that I want to take despite I should not,” Hanzo says, nursing the half-empty bottle of beer in his hands with no intention to drink from it anymore.

“Why do ya’ keep saying that? Ya’ clearly want your brother back,” McCree says.

“You do not understand,” Hanzo says. The bottle drops from his hands, his shoulders slack and his eyes fixed on his empty hands. Hands once wore his brother’s blood. Genji. “I killed him,” he mumbles. “I killed my brother.”

McCree stiffens at his side, Hanzo senses it and doesn’t fight the tear that smears on his cheek and gets lost in his hands. He’s worse than a killer and there is nothing he can do to change that. He doesn’t deserve the cowboy, never will.

“Hanzo, you’re…”

“Unworthy,” Hanzo gasps and breaks, because saying it in his mind doesn’t hurt half as much as saying it out loud. To him. “I killed him in cold blood driven by my own motives and then I eloped, left my home, my fate, my responsibilities because nothing made sense without him.”

“You’re a Shimada,” McCree says and blinks. “Hanzo Shimada.”

That name hurts like a knife through his flesh and the only thing he can do is to stare at those gentle eyes piercing him while his heart fights to jump out of his chest. McCree knows who he is, but Hanzo cannot articulate a word, he’s in despair and ready to lose the only thing that gave him hope.

“Honey, I know your story because Genji has told me about him and his brother many times,” McCree says and Hanzo gasps at the mention of his brother’s name. “We met in Blackwatch,” he says, trying to erase Hanzo’s confused stance. Damn, his own too because what are the chances of meeting another Shimada unexpectedly?

“Then you must hate me already,” Hanzo says and closes his eyes, unable to read the truth in his gaze, unable to stand the hate, the disappointment in those eyes that until today only had kindness for him. One he took and didn’t deserve, but it’s over now.

“I can’t hate you, Hanzo,” McCree says and scoots closer, a hand on the small of his back and his forehead against his shoulder while he sighs. “Genji never spoke ill of ya’, it was complicated, he was conflicted with you, his family, himself…”

“I have seen what he’s turned into because of me,” Hanzo says, leaning his head over the cowboy’s to find a comfort he doesn’t deserve.

“He’s alive,” McCree says. “And a little shit.”

“But I killed him.”

“Tell me your truth,” McCree says, circling Hanzo’s waist with a loving arm and straightening to look into those sad eyes full of repent. “I won’t judge ya’

“It was my duty and my burden,” Hanzo murmurs, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Our father had died and Genji wanted to flee free from the Shimada-gumi. We only had each other then, and…” Hanzo gasps. “They ordered me to control him, to secure him under my wing or to kill him and I failed us both, I couldn’t protect him from… myself.”

That’s the other version of a story McCree already knows. A sad story where a brother kills the other for power, greed, reasons that don’t matter when the blood is spilled. But Genji survived, joined Overwatch and never blamed Hanzo but their family and the organization he finally took down before leaving Blackwatch and the cowboy behind; when everything went to hell.

A sad story he has listened to during many drunken nights by the lips of his best friend, where the other part didn’t matter until he put a face to his assassin. Hanzo. Two days are enough to see he is broken and now he understands why. McCree never gave a second thought about Genji’s brother, the ninja never seeked revenge and he dismissed the poor soul as though his part in the story was already over. He swallows and curses inwardly.

“M’sorry I can’t kiss away your wounds,” McCree says, a shrink forms in his stomach in front of those inconsolable eyes. “But I’ll try my best, sweetheart, that’s what I always do, I promise.”

“Jesse,” Hanzo gasps.

Not a hundred sweet nothings would erase Hanzo’s inner turmoil, McCree knows, but he winds his arms around him and whispers them into his ear nonetheless because he cares. Hanzo cannot change what he did but McCree won’t let that break him apart any longer; not on his watch.

“How can you still be here?” Hanzo whispers while he hides his face in the crook of his neck.

“I won’t let you slip from my fingers, darlin’,” McCree says and smiles, caressing the short hair at his nape. “I’ve been waitin’ for ya’ my whole life.”

“What I did is unforgivable,” Hanzo says and fists McCree’s shirt at the back while he fights the tears.

“It’s not my job to forgive ya’ or to judge ya’ for it,” McCree says. “You’re not that man anymore, not to me.”

Hanzo squirms out of his hold, gobsmacked at the kindness the cowboy is granting him. He knows Genji, he is friends with Genji, knows their story and yet he has chosen not to hate him for it. How can he not hate him when he hates himself so much?

“You barely know me,” Hanzo wryly says.

“I know ya’ better than anyone you’ve met in the past ten years, can ya’ deny that?” McCree says. Hanzo wants to answer but sighs and looks down, beaten. “C’mon, we’re gonna freeze out here.”

They walk to their room quietly, the cheerful banter of McCree is gone while they undress and Hanzo is left alone in an empty bed, the stream of the shower and distant cars are the only things filling the atmosphere. If he joins Overwatch… Hanzo closes tightly his eyes and dismisses the thought.

Hanzo wants to ask McCree about Overwatch, his brother, how did they help him? When? Why? So many questions he lacks the strength to face the answer to them. He feels the despair, the agony of not being enough until the cowboy comes back from the shower, sneaks inside the sheets with him and holds him close.

“I’m here, honey bun,” McCree whispers and almost -barely- steals a smile from his lips.

 

**Saturday 08:01:34 AM**

Hanzo is there when he wakes up. A dopey smile spreads on McCree’s lips while he snuggles into the strong body behind him and the bed squeals under his weight. Last night was rough, he still cannot believe they have met under these circumstances. Genji will kill him when he tells him he has fucked his brother, several times, without knowing it at first, not that it would’ve stopped him if he had known.

A warm thigh sneaks between his legs and Hanzo nuzzles at his nape, a strong hand surrounding his body and a hard morning wood pressed at his backside. Jesse sighs and revels in this piece of heaven because he knows things will get intense when they get to Overwatch. They? He assumed Genji’s offer to Hanzo was to join Overwatch too, and even though he doesn’t know yet if he’s considering it or not he wants him to. Damn, he wants it so badly he’s scared to ask Hanzo about it.

Heartwarming caresses on his chest by a hand that was still until now and soft kisses in his nape hints Hanzo is no longer sleeping. A chill runs down his spine by the tickling feeling of those lips and that warm breath puffing slowly and relaxed.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” McCree says with a raspy voice while Hanzo takes a lungful and sighs.

“You smell so good,” Hanzo says and does it again, snuggling into him. McCree blushes at the sleepy shows of affection from Hanzo who always look so stern and serious, in control of everything, but wakes up with his guard down at his side and it melts his heart.

“It’s still too early,” Hanzo mumbles. “Go back to sleep.”

“Honey, we ain’t sleeping anymore,” McCree says and chuckles. “We sure as shooting are gonna make use of this noisy bed before we hit the road.”

McCree can sense Hanzo smirking behind him because his hand trails a lewd path down his stomach and inside the tent formed on his boxers. Hanzo wraps it around his width and a pleased grunt leaves his mouth at how hard it is while the cowboy moans at the movements of the hand. Fearing Hanzo intends to fix him quickly and go back to sleep, Jesse squirms out of his hold and reaches for the lube on his bag at the feet of the bed, handing it to Hanzo while he swoops down his boxers.

“I am taking my time with you, cowboy,” Hanzo whispers accommodating McCree back into his arms, rocking his hips and rubbing himself right into his naked ass.

“Just in case, darlin’,” McCree teases and tosses the unwanted underwear far away.

“You’ll spend an hour looking for those later,” Hanzo teases while he gets rid of his own and kicks them off before squeezing lube in his hand. He warms it up between his fingers while he spares kisses over McCree’s shoulders, inhaling the spicy scent of the cowboy.

McCree arches his back and grabs his butt cheek to expose his ass to Hanzo who bites at the base of his neck and slides his fingers up and down his rim. With his head still spinning from last night, Hanzo wants to forget and get lost in the cowboy before they leave the bed, the room, and reality hit them unmercifully again.

He slides a finger inside him, but soon he feels McCree’s hand near his own, pushing one of his fingers too. The cowboy moans and Hanzo drags his lips over the indents of his teeth, adjusting his hand to the lack of space.

“So impatient,” Hanzo teases and struggles to fit another slippery finger, his knuckles brushing McCree’s.

“I want ya’ so bad, sweetheart. Can ya’ blame me?” McCree says and gasps at the burn, trying to speed things up. This seems like their last chance because when they leave this bed McCree fears Hanzo will run the opposite direction to never see him again, but he swallows the thoughts and focuses on the present.

Hanzo runs his tongue up his neck until he reaches his earlobe and traps it into his lips, sucking and warming up the skin while he fucks him with his fingers, pushing further inside and fighting the clenching of the muscle around them.

“I take pleasure in this, Jesse,” Hanzo lets go of his earlobe and whispers. “I love to make you shudder with the tip of my fingers.” McCree moans and pushes his ass into them when Hanzo puts pressure right into his prostate and a spurt of precum leaks from his cock.

“Darlin’, please…” McCree mumbles trying to fit another finger with the three that already fills him because he wants more, wants him.

Hanzo rubs his fingers inside him, buried to the second knuckle and fucking into him at a leisurely pace. The lingering burn is gone and McCree barely moves his fingers, he leaves them there and trembles whenever Hanzo wants him to.

“Lie on your stomach,” Hanzo says and withdraws his fingers while McCree does the same and obeys dutifully, getting rid of the pillow and resting his head on his forearms.

His cock is strained by the mattress while he lies flat on it, but he’d do whatever Hanzo said now or ever, so he stays still while Hanzo straddles his ass, that cock he craves so much placed right between his butt cheeks.

“What are ya’ waiting for, honey?” McCree says and glances back at him while Hanzo’s hands knead his ass greedily.

McCree has his legs trapped by Hanzo’s weight, waiting patiently while Hanzo’s slick cock glides back and forth his ass. With a loud grunt, Hanzo pushes the tip inside him, unable to wait or tease any longer. It’s overwhelming. Will he ever get used to this? To his eagerness, the needy noises leaving his mouth, asking for more, pinned to the mattress while he just lets him do whatever he wants.

And Hanzo wants him whole and slides inside him effortlessly by a swing of his hips, relishing in the tightness of the muscle, stretching him just how he knows the cowboy needs. His hands roam freely from those butt cheeks where his cock disappears to the small of his back, giving him leverage to rock his hips, pushing in and pulling out of him.

McCree moans, trying to push his ass up but he cannot, Hanzo’s weight won’t let him. Hanzo shoves himself to the hilt and then out again. It isn’t slow nor harsh but a heavenly carried rhythm that drives him mad because he feels full; full of Hanzo.

“Do you like it?” Hanzo says and McCree knows there’s a smug smile on his face because he’s enjoying himself and his doing. He twigs it in his voice, in that tinge of pride and slightly ragged breath.

“You’re riding me well there, sweetheart,” McCree says and groans when Hanzo bottoms out and stays there for a moment before resuming that perfectly timed tempo. “I wonder how’d ya’ do it on my dick.”

Hanzo chuckles, leaning forward, resting both of his fan spread palms on the bed at both sides of his body, completely shoved inside him. “Perhaps one day I will show you,” Hanzo teases. “But now _you_ show me how you ride, cowboy.” McCree curses inwardly his cockiness when Hanzo pulls out and slaps a butt cheek naughtily. Not nearly as harshly as the treatment he gave him the other day.

Hanzo arranges the pillows at his upper back and reclines on them, petting McCree’s hair while he crawls up his body and kisses him. He sets himself on his inviting lap with the consequential squeaking of the mattress at which both chuckle.

McCree will never have enough of those mischievous lips speaking wonders into his mouth, of that teasing tongue gently easing the sting of the bites Hanzo lands unexpectedly. He loves every single bit of it. He reaches back for that throbbing cock while Hanzo grasps his ass and claws his fingers on it.

Those black eyes are unavoidable when they stare at you, when they look right through you piercing your soul and filling your heart with things you cannot forget. Hanzo releases him from his spell when McCree lowers his body to sink Hanzo’s cock into himself again, that beautiful, round, swollen cock, curved right where he needs it.

“Damn, darlin’,” McCree whispers.

“Move,” Hanzo says. “Show me.”

McCree smiles, his own hard erection is dripping clear beads on Hanzo’s stomach. He rocks his hips and quickly picks up a pace that will take the best of Hanzo if he isn’t careful, enveloped by his warmth and under the mercy of those shameful movements. Hanzo moans and leaves crescent moon marks on his ass while watching him.

He’s so beautiful it hurts, that brown mussed hair getting in his eyes, strong arms supporting him while those warm, gentle hands squeeze his chest. His mouth is slightly opened, getting a much-needed air while he works those thighs and fucks himself with his cock.

“Fuck, Jesse,” Hanzo says while another mouthful or Japanese cursing follows.

The cowboy pushes back into his hard cock, the muscles of his arms and legs flex with every movement and he’s breaking a sweat that makes him even sexier if that’s possible. Hanzo is defenseless and he should’ve known the cowboy wouldn’t disappoint.

He bounces on top of him, clearly enjoying himself judging by that playful hand that is stroking his cock meanwhile, and he’s speeding up the pace, moaning at every thrust that drives Hanzo deeper inside his warmth every time. Hanzo is close, flustered and panting while he fights not to come at that sinful sliding the cowboy is performing on top of him. McCree’s relentless, and shameless, and he loves it.

“Yeehaw!” McCree says, winking at him and tipping an invisible hat on his head. Hanzo chuckles and earns another five minutes of glory thanks to the enthusiastic battle cry of the cowboy.

“Come here,” Hanzo says, a devilish grin on his lips while he bends his knees and bucks his hips up, adding another squeak to the already noisy melody of the mattress.

McCree leans forward, a hand on the headboard and the other on the pillows next to Hanzo’s head. “Ya’ wanna kiss the cowboy or what?”

Hanzo takes his mouth without asking, biting his bottom lip and securing that sweaty ass with both his hands while he thrusts up into him. He drinks McCree’s moans and whines while he watches that firm cock bouncing on his stomach and feels that stretched ass clenching around him.

“Can you come like this?” Hanzo whispers into his mouth.

“Yeah, darlin’,” McCree gasps. “I may be riding but you’re fucking me so good.”

“I want to see it,” Hanzo says, driving himself inside and out of the cowboy, the bouncing of the bed helping and dooming his movements at the same time. “Come just from my cock.”

“Damn,” McCree says and moans when Hanzo bucks his hips up faster. “Then don’t stop, darlin’.”

Hanzo glances up at the blissed-out expression of the cowboy, blushing cheeks, and hooded lids, those swollen lips made to kiss and then down, to that soft stomach and that leaking hard cock in the air. He shoves himself repeatedly into him, trying to make sense of the blue streak of whines and moans that leave McCree’s mouth until he finds an angle that makes him tremble and exploits it over, and over again.

A mumble of curses fills the room because he’s so close but doesn’t want to come yet, not until the cowboy spills himself in his stomach. He’s breathless by the effort, those sweaty butt cheeks escaping his hands in every onslaught, his thighs will hurt later for sure, Hanzo thinks and then he relishes in the loud moan of McCree.

His ass clenches around him, trapping him beautifully inside while McCree’s thick cock twitches, and he paints his flesh with pearlescent spurts of his spent that come out of him at every short thrust from his cock. A show Hanzo wouldn’t miss for anything in the world.

“You are perfect,” Hanzo whispers, looking for his mouth or his neck. Anywhere to land a bite.

McCree leans forward, hides his face in the crook of Hanzo’s neck leaving exposed his shoulder and gets a mean, harsh bite from Hanzo who bucks his hips up desperately pursuing his own orgasm while that fluttering hole wraps around his girth.

“Yes,” he mumbles with a mouthful of his flesh finally surrendering to the pressure down his balls.

His movements slow down, become frantic, needy and Hanzo spills himself inside him. McCree drags his lips over his neck and loving words fill his ears while his softened cock slides out of him followed by his come. Hanzo sighs, sated and reveling in the weight of Jesse on top of him. He doesn’t want to open his eyes and realize they’re not meant to be.

“Come with me,” McCree says without thinking and straightens to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“To Gibraltar. Genji asked you to join us, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but…”

“Come with me, then,” McCree says. “We don’t have to say goodbye to each other.”

Hanzo swallows, the possibility of staying with McCree is tempting. For the first time in his life, he’d have everything, and he’s scared of losing it. He’ll have Genji again, whatever relationship he wants from him, forgiveness -Hanzo gasps- and the cowboy, altogether, but what’s the catch? Overwatch. He won’t fit, they won’t want him, Genji has made a mistake asking him.

“I cannot join Overwatch,” Hanzo says. “I am no hero.”

“What about Genji?” McCree says but what he really means is what about me? About us? Thanks to the haze of his orgasm his heart is on the table when he swore many years ago he’d never do that to himself again. Better off alone, that’s what he’d repeat to himself over the years before leaving the bed of his lovers too soon, but this time he cannot. He won’t leave Hanzo behind.

“He is better off without me,” Hanzo says. “I killed him…”

Hanzo escapes McCree’s arms and sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair while the cowboy sits at his side. They’re both naked, vulnerable both body and heart; the heat of their lovemaking still lingering in the air.

“He’s alive, Hanzo,” McCree says. “You’ve seen it yourself.”

“I thought he was for ten years, that is something you cannot change in one day,” Hanzo says and frowns. “Or a hundred…”

“Then man up and face it, don’t run away from it,” McCree says, angry at himself for bringing this up now but if he doesn’t and Hanzo ends up leaving without him and disappearing at least he tried.

“I am not running away,” Hanzo snarls and pins McCree with his eyes.

“Yes, you are, and I get it. I’ve had my fair share of running,” McCree says, ignoring that piercing look. “Ya’ think I haven’t done shit in my life? ‘Cause I have, and I’ve been taking bad decisions since I learned to speak.”

“I am one of those bad decisions,” Hanzo says and sighs.

“Don’t run away from me,” McCree says and cups his face with a mechanical arm that is cold but feels just the same as flesh would.

“Jesse, I am nothing,” Hanzo murmurs and leans forward, pressing his forehead into the cowboy’s.

“I’m in for it, for us,” McCree says. “And I needed thirty seconds to figure it out when I saw ya’ that night at the bar.” A sweet smile coats the words and Hanzo melts, curses himself for his weakness, for wanting all those words to be true and to be worthy of them.

“Have you fallen in love, cowboy?” Hanzo asks with a half-smile.

“Like a fool,” McCree whispers.

Hanzo kisses him, languid and sad, hopeful and cheerful because he wants it, wants him so badly he’s embarrassed but committed to it nonetheless. Who is he trying to fool? He cannot leave Jesse behind because in the first night he’d run to get him back. The cowboy’s not the only fool in love in the room. Hanzo smiles into the kiss. That was an easy truth to confess to himself.

“Just don’t run away from me,” McCree mumbles against his mouth. “We’ll figure it out ‘cause I ain’t leaving without ya’ unless ya’ don’t want me…”

He traps his lips to shut him up. _I want you_ , he wants to say but kiss him instead, dragging his lips over McCree’s, winding an arm around his shoulders and another around his waist. _I want you_. Jesse melts into the kiss, feeling that smirk and assailing his mouth with an eager tongue that wants to feast on those lips for the rest of his life.

“Will you have me?” Hanzo whispers into his mouth, breathless, his heart thumping in his chest.

“Every night for supper, sweetheart,” McCree teases while a grin spreads on his lips.

 

**Epilogue**

The parking lot of the airport is stuffed with cars and Hanzo waits leaning on a wall while McCree sells the car. In a couple of hours, they will leave the states in a flight to Spain and then Gibraltar to get to Watchpoint. Hanzo is still doubtful about joining Overwatch but the enthusiasm of the cowboy is contagious.

McCree walks toward him, touching the brim of his hat and winking, with that sweet, lovely smile that makes his heart skip a beat every single time. Hanzo is still waiting for the day when that doesn’t happen, but only to confirm it will never come.

“That’s done,” McCree says. “I feel naked without Peacekeeper.”

“Do not worry,” Hanzo says. “Our weapons will be waiting for us in Spain.”

“I still don’t get how ya’ managed that,” McCree says and circles his waist with both arms, rocking him into his embrace.

“Money gets things done,” Hanzo says and smirks.

“I should turn my phone on and see if there’s any news,” McCree says, taking it out from his pocket. Hanzo swoons at how happy he seems, suddenly coming back to Overwatch is not a problem anymore for him because now it will be an exciting adventure they will share together.

McCree turns the phone on and after a few seconds, he smiles widely, finding messages from Lena, Winston, even Angie. He snorts, amused at how stupid he’s been thinking this was a mistake, but then again, his fears and wandering around on that stupid road trip led him to Hanzo and that’s something to be thankful for.

“There’s a message from Genji,” McCree says. “You should read it.”

 _Hello, Jesse._ _You better come back or I will look for you. I have so much to tell you about Nepal._ _I also contacted my brother again and asked for his help, I_ _am hopeful_ _he will join us._

Hanzo stares at the screen and reads it, imagines it with the voice of his brother and his heart is appalled by the spontaneity Genji speaks about him despite the years. Maybe there is hope for them after all.

“Just let me send him somethin’ real quick,” McCree says, fetching the phone from his hands and typing while a smug smile spreads on his lips. Hanzo narrows his eyes and frowns in disbelief.

“What are you telling him?”

“I fucked your bub. I’m not sorry ‘bout it,” McCree says and keeps his phone in the back pocket, taking Hanzo’s hand while they walk to the airport terminal.

“Please, tell me you did not do that,” Hanzo asks and squeezes his hand anxiously but McCree chuckles.

“Genji’s going to kill me,” McCree finally says and laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (∗∕ ∕•̥̥̥̥∕ω∕•̥̥̥̥∕)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you so much to everyone reading along and leaving sooo many nice comments. ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯
> 
> Happy thought: Jesse and Hanzo come back on their anniversary to celebrate taking the same road trip and stopping at the same places along the way <3333


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to happen!!! But then I started thinking about Genji's reaction (thanks to all your sweet comments), and their arrival at Gibraltar and damn... it wrote itself lol (ॢ˘⌣˘ ॢ⑅)
> 
> Is there smut here? Hell yeah lol xDDDDD NSFW chapter otherwise this wouldn't be a pwp (｡◝‿◜｡) I might as well add the spanking tag and stop denying the evidence....
> 
> By the way, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY OVERWATCH!!! ＼＼\\\୧( ⁼̴̶̤̀ω⁼̴̶̤́ )૭ //／／ And yes, I added new voicelines/quotes here (silly details, but still xD)

**Friday 17:32:45 PM**

The weather in the Iberian Peninsula is humid and hot and it bothers Hanzo enormously, or perhaps is that itching at the back of his nape that this won’t turn out as seamlessly as the cowboy wants to believe.

They cover the last miles of his trip by motorcycle, a rental, a last-minute whim, but when Hanzo saw McCree’s eyes open wide at the sight of that impressive Harley Davidson and then he imagined himself at his back, throwing his arms around his broad body; well, they are riding to Watchpoint Gibraltar in style.

Hanzo presses his chest against his back, the sun warming them up excessively but the roaring engine between their legs and the endless road soothes him. A couple of hours of just admiring the landscape is relaxing, the helmets and the speed won’t allow conversation, and Hanzo rambles about his worries for far too long.

An intricate road leads to a fence with many warnings, but McCree ignores them blatantly and forces open the rusty lock. Hanzo takes off the helmet, and the cowboy does the same, securing it on his elbow and taking again his place behind the handlebars.

McCree sighs loudly while they travel at low speed inside the complex. Everything looks abandoned, nature has taken over the place and covers old boxes, storage units, and buildings. He thinks about Overwatch’s golden era and if his quarters here are still waiting for him, though his favorite base was the Swiss one; so many good Blackwatch memories there. He senses Hanzo’s distress when he cannot stay still and shifts often in the seat.

“What’s eating ya’ up, darlin’?” McCree asks.

“This is not a good idea, Jesse,” Hanzo says and pushes his forehead between McCree’s shoulder blades.

“I’m with ya’, don’t ya’ wanna see Genji?” McCree says.

“Well… yes,” Hanzo mumbles.

“Ha! You’re nervous!” McCree teases. “Hanzo Shimada is nervous.” He earns a squeeze around his waist that tickles more than anything else. McCree chuckles, recognizing the end of the path and the main building right at the front.

They have seen no one yet, and it worries him. He didn’t want to announce their arrival; they took their time getting here, a much needed time alone to revel in this thing that sparked between them, however, he expected the place to look more welcoming. He parks the bike, stops the engine, and waits for Hanzo to get off first.

A loud, hearty sigh leaves his lungs glancing at the beauty in front of him. The leather smells as though it was new, the tassels on the handlebars, those big wheels made to speed up into the sunset; McCree sighs again and runs shy fingers along the warmed-up seat.

“What is it?” Hanzo asks with a smug smile.

“Damn me, If I ain’t gonna miss this beauty,” McCree says.

“Perhaps I will gift you one for your birthday,” Hanzo teases.

“What are ya’ my sugar daddy now?” McCree says and wiggles his eyebrows.

“You wish,” Hanzo says and allows those muscled arms to wrap around his waist in a close embrace.

“’Cause if my bounty is up to sixty million dollars an’ ya’ have more than that in your bank account…” McCree teases. “I hit the jackpot, sweetheart…”

Hanzo kisses him between chuckles, so accustomed now to the lingering smell of his cigars, to the way he smirks while kissing when he is thinking about naughty stuff and that sweetness that pours out of his tongue whenever it touches his lips. Hanzo melts, wanting this kiss to last forever, dreading the moment they cross that huge door.

This could change everything between them, getting out of their little universe and into Overwatch no less, with his long-lost brother, a bunch of strangers to him but close friends to Jesse. This could go awfully wrong really fast and it has him rattled.

“It’ll be fine, honey bun,” McCree whispers and Hanzo believes him.

McCree leaves the helmets atop the seat and rummages inside the saddlebag for his trustworthy cowboy hat, dusting it lightly before putting it back where it belongs. He winks at Hanzo and steals a half-smile before those lips press into his own, reassuring, soothing because even though he has tried so hard for the past few days to ease Hanzo’s heart he is also nervous about what they will find behind those doors.

Nothing; an empty but cleaned up space, a rudimental kitchen that had seen better days, more boxes and furniture gathered in a corner, and upon the second floor an empty office framed by a broken glass. McCree frowns and pats Peacekeeper, wondering what happened here before their arrival. Perhaps Overwatch is already over before he had time to…

“Agent McCree,” an omnipresent voice greets him. “Our facilities are under maintenance, but I alerted all residing members of your arrival.” McCree chuckles, it has been a long time since he had heard Athena’s voice.

“Thank you kindly,” he says and tips his hat to the ceiling, even though it’s a weird thing to do when talking to an AI. A habit he hasn’t got ridden off, apparently.

McCree leaves his things in a corner and Hanzo does the same, inspecting the place that once had witnessed the glory of Overwatch and now rots abandoned to an unknown future. There is still work to do, and that gives Hanzo a funny feeling of hope that maybe he can do his bit and make right all his wrongs.

“Hanzo,” his brother says, coming down the stairs behind them. “You came.”

Hanzo is unable to suppress the wide smile that comes up his face so unannounced it hurts. He wants to run and hug him, should he? Genji isn’t wearing his helmet, his scarred face in the open, the rest of his body wearing a light armor -what’s underneath, he doesn’t know yet- but those eyes; he’d never forget those kind eyes twins of his own that meet his gaze.

“Genji,” he says, still not believing he is there, trying to push the memories from that night deep inside his heart so he doesn’t crumble into the floor at his presence. He takes a step towards his brother, doubtful.

McCree gets ahead, hugging Genji and lifting him off the ground. The cowboy is happy to see him, of course, he is a good friend, a loving friend that has taken care of his brother all these years when he was unaware of all of it.

“Ha! Ya’ little shit,” McCree says, cheerful to see his friend again after so many years, but Genji squirms out of his hold and grabs him by the shoulders, staring at his left arm.

“What happened to your arm, McCree?” Genji says, astonished. “I told you to take better care or you’ll end up with a body like mine.” He chuckles, but a shiver runs through Hanzo’s spine.

“Oh damn,” McCree says and rubs the back of his neck.

“Wait,” Hanzo says. “I thought this had happened to you while working at Overwatch.”

“The last time I saw him he was in one piece,” Genji says, exchanging a puzzled look with his brother.

“How do you like me now?” McCree says and winks at Genji. “I always admired Torbjorn’s arm, figured I’d get one of my own.”

“He has not arrived yet,” Genji says and sighs, realizing McCree won’t talk about it. “But he will, Brigitte too.”

“Damn, Reinhardt’s goddaughter?” Genji nods enthusiastically.

“But wait until Angie sees your arm, she will scold you for it. As she always says: you really should…”

“… take better care of yourself,” they both say in unison, “like I could forget.”

Hanzo swoons at those happy faces, reunited friends that clearly have missed each other these past years. Life can change in a heartbeat as he has experienced in his own flesh. When he saw Genji at Hanamura, there was a tinge of the little brat he was as a youngster but now he sees a completely different Genji; the same, but more mature, sensible, he likes it. A hint of pride bursts inside him at who his brother is now despite what he has had to overcome.

“Who is Angie?” Hanzo asks and interrupts the gleeful banter.

“Dr. Angela Ziegler,” Genji says while a shy smile twitches his lips up. “The woman that saved my life.”

“In more than one way,” McCree whispers trying to cover his mouth but winking a Genji, who suddenly is red as a beet and it makes Hanzo smile.

“Anyway,” Genji says and clears his throat. “She is in London with Lena but they will be back tomorrow, as you can see we need help around here.”

A huge shadow covers the light seeping through the door and reaches the ceiling so high Hanzo almost tries to fetch an arrow at his back by instinct, remembering then his weapon is on a corner along with the cowboy’s luggage. A gorilla lands gracefully with a big thump and approaches them with a smile that doesn’t suit his menacing appearance.

“Excuse me for dropping in,” Winston says and chuckles, adjusting his glasses. “I came as fast as I could.”

“Hanzo, this is Winston,” Genji hurries to introduce the scientist.

“Nice meeting you,” Hanzo says and bows his head respectfully and Winston mimics him awkwardly, not used to the formalities.

“McCree, nice to see you again,” Winston says, shaking his hand. “And I am looking forward to working with you Mr. Shimada.” And shakes his hand too. Hanzo wasn’t expecting friendliness.

“So, you’re the new boss ‘round here,” McCree says and arches an eyebrow at Winston.

“Oh, please,” Winston coughs uncomfortably. “Mr. Shimada, do you mind coming with me so we can sort your Overwatch profile and give you access to the facilities? I’ll meet you upstairs.”

“Please, you may call me Hanzo,” he says and Winston nods and jumps to the second floor as though he cannot spare a minute without working.

“Ya’ weren’t that quick tellin’ me your name…” McCree mumbles and Hanzo turns bright red at the cowboy’s quip, nudging him when he chuckles. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

Hanzo shakes his head and turns around to climb the stairs and sort out Winston’s request. McCree notices Genji staring and he pushes his shoulder, getting his attention and pointing to Hanzo with his head and a knowing smile. Then Hanzo feels how Genji grasps his elbow and pulls him in a shy hug.

His heart skips a beat at the close contact of his brother, a hug he doesn’t deserve but gives back, a demonstration of love he never thought he’d have again. It’s been ten long years of repenting and he feels as though he is about to fall from a cliff. But this time his brother is there, and so is the cowboy.

“I am glad to have you back, anija,” Genji whispers and it melts his heart.

“Genji…” His brother’s kindness will always amaze Hanzo, even when he was a rebellious teenager not assuming his responsibilities he was good and kind. It gives Hanzo peace of mind that Genji hasn’t lost that virtue because of his actions.

“I have a bottle of our favorite sake,” Genji says, freeing Hanzo from his embrace with a sweet smile plastered on his face. “Perhaps we can share it later.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Hanzo says, trying not to burst into a hysterical laughter at the situation. Somehow, he still dreads waking up from his reverie. He meets the cowboy’s gaze and McCree winks at him. He won’t wake up, this is real.

McCree and Genji watch Hanzo join Winston upstairs and they both sigh. The tension of the moment will fade away eventually and things will go back to normal if they ever were. Hanzo will fit, McCree knows because he sees who he truly is and everyone deserves a second chance, especially in Overwatch.

“So…” Genji says and clears his throat.

“If yer gonna ask ‘bout my arm, I ain’t in the mood,” McCree says and Genji pats his shoulder friendly. “But I will be, just not today.”

“So, you slept with my brother and you are not sorry about it,” Genji teases with a shit-eating grin on his face. McCree laughs, sneaking his thumbs under his belt and shrugging. He won’t lie, the first thing he checked when Genji showed up was if he was wielding his katana.

“We met at a bar in New Mexico,” he says. “When I got the call from Overwatch I panicked and needed to figure things out, ya’ know?”

“At a bar?” Genji says and rolls his eyes at that classic McCree move.

“A lil road trip,” McCree says. “But when I saw Hanzo, well, as if I could eye a man like that and not flirt with him.”

“I am not surprised you made a move, I am surprised Hanzo fell for it,” Genji says, trying not to laugh.

“Damn, me too, but thirty minutes later we were in my car an’…” McCree says in a low conspiratorial voice.

“No details!” Genji says and nudges him while the cowboy chuckles.

“Someone stole his car meanwhile,” McCree wiggles his eyebrows and Genji covers his face with his palm at the nature of the conversation. “I helped a man in need and gave him a ride.”

“I see,” Genji says and snickers. “A good samaritan giving a man a ride.”

“The ride of his life,” McCree quips, throwing his arm around Genji’s shoulders playfully while the younger Shimada laughs. “Hanzo didn’t tell me his name ‘til the second day, so I didn’t know who he was at first.”

“How did you find out?” Genji asks surprised at his brother’s boldness.

“We shared a lot on the road,” McCree says and loses his smile briefly. “But when he spoke about you,” McCree pauses and clicks his tongue. “That’s when I knew.”

“I haven’t seen Hanzo smile like that since we were very young,” Genji says. “And when I saw him at Hanamura he was troubled.”

“A shame, he’s gorgeous,” McCree says.

“Jesse, it is too soon,” Genji warns, knowing McCree falls hard and fast.

“I know, I know,” McCree croons. “I’m a sappy cowboy but I’m tellin’ ya’ this today, I’m gonna marry that man.” Genji laughs and pats his back. McCree knew he’d take it well, that Genji will notice immediately that he had fallen for Hanzo; too many years of friendship and nothing to hide.

“Always looking for trouble,” Genji says and sighs. “Welcome to the Shimada family then. I hope you know what you are getting into.”

“Oh sweetheart, believe me I know,” McCree whispers.

“Jesse!” Genji protests and rolls his eyes.

 

**Friday 23:56:12 PM**

The silver shine of the moon stretches to the sea and fills the warm night with promises of hope and good times to come. As cheerful as the faint laughs and chuckles echoing in the cliffs in unison coming out of two brothers finally reunited, sharing and celebrating life, because for the first time they are free and they are together.

Ten years of despair, of finding themselves and each other, a bottle of sake, a hug and suddenly they’re back at Hanamura, under a cherry blossom tree sharing stolen alcohol and talking about tales of dragons, dreams of greatness, and a shared fate.

“Now that I got you drunk, anija,” Genji says, his cheeks pink by the sake. “Do you want to talk about the cowboy?”

“No,” Hanzo snorts.

“McCree said you two met at a roadside bar,” Genji teases, pushes his luck to bother his brother because that’s what he does, what he did when they were young and what he intends to keep doing.

“He speaks too much,” Hanzo says and empties the bottle in their improvised glasses to take one last gulp at the poison.

“On that we can agree,” Genji says, lifting his drink in a toast. “To Jesse and his big mouth.”

“Kampai,” Hanzo says, remarking the word a little too much and drinking slowly the precious sake he has missed badly. It tastes even better when he shares it with Genji.

“He also said it took him thirty minutes to…”

“Genji!” Hanzo protests while he chokes on his drink from a coughing fit.

“To fall for you, anija!” Genji teases and chuckles. “You are still too easy.” He pats Hanzo on the back, rubbing his hand, craving a contact with him, his family, someone he loved and lost but he has found again.

“Thank you, Genji,” Hanzo says and sighs, guiltiness punishing again and clearly visible in his gaze.

“I told you,” Genji says. “I have forgiven you and now you have to forgive yourself. It’ll become easier.”

“I know,” Hanzo says. “I should go to sleep, seems like there is a lot of work to do around here.”

“We should,” Genji says and stands, offering a hand to his brother.

Hanzo walks with Genji back to the crew quarters between jokes and chuckles but with a clear as light plan on his head. Hanzo wants to find McCree and make good use of their new bed now that a weight has been lifted from his chest. They are here, they are in Overwatch and before they are sent into missions, they need to make the best while they can.

Second floor, a turn to the right, and he is in front of the door. _Their door_. The cowboy will be there waiting for him. Jesse was kind enough to leave him alone with Genji to catch up and spend some brotherly time together -the dragons know they will need more than one night- but Hanzo wishes he is waiting for him. He presses his hand on the control panel and the door swooshes open.

Hanzo steps inside and is gifted with a wonderful view of a room full of boxes to open and sort out, so much stuff to organize but also a cowboy on his boxers lying on the bed, the dim light of the lamp illuminating him, a datapad on his hands and that wolfish grin he’s so in love with beaming on his lips.

“Howdy,” McCree says and places the datapad on the floor with a grunt.

Hanzo ambles toward him, taking off his shoes -stumbling on his own feet, but nothing he would dare to admit- and pulling his shirt up his head, tossing it on the floor.

“Howdy, indeed, darlin’,” McCree teases and bites his bottom lip while he roams his eyes over Hanzo. He will never have enough of him, not in a lifetime.

The pants and his boxers fall at his feet and Hanzo steps out of them -trips again, barely noticeable but McCree chuckles- and crawls up the bed on top of his cowboy all naked.

“Did ya’ find your way here half-drunk, sweetheart?” McCree says but before the last word leaves his lips Hanzo falls on them, mouth open while a teasing tongue darts out to ravish in the wonders of his mouth.

McCree moans into the kiss, tasting Hanzo’s eager tongue, bitter and sweet, alcohol for sure; wonders he wants to taste for the rest of his life as long as they come from his lips. Hanzo gasps and interrupts the kiss to breathe, hovering on his fours over McCree’s body.

“I like that sake on your lips, darlin’,” McCree whispers. “Though I prefer a little bite…” Hanzo clenches his teeth wildly at the base of his neck and bites until McCree whimpers. “… to my liquor, sweetheart.”

Hanzo releases the reddened flesh and licks the indents of his teeth, admiring the beautiful bruise that forms there in the shape of his mouth. He kisses it and resist the temptation to devour that man alive.

“You do not want to rouse the dragon,” Hanzo says with a sly smile on his lips.

“I believe the dragon’s already roused,” McCree says and chuckles, loosening Hanzo’s hair and discarding the hair tie nowhere to be found ever again. He likes him like this, unraveled, free. Damn, he would let that famished man feast on him, mark him, own him either way he deemed.

Hanzo slides a hand inside McCree’s boxers to find a softened cock. “Honey, I’m not even…” the cowboy moans while Hanzo palms back and forth his cock and lowers his hand to cradle his sac in his hand and tug playfully at it. “Nevermind,” McCree gasps.

In a smart movement, Hanzo swoops down McCree’s boxers and hurries to go back to that cock while Jesse kicks them off. He gives long strokes from his hand, arousing him and feeling it harden by his touch. His mouth reaches for his abused neck tracing lavish kisses on his flesh while the cowboy pours endless moans into his ears.

McCree writhes underneath him, trying to get a faster treatment but Hanzo sets the pace. He finds his way down to his chest, the fuzz tickling his nose and lips while he drags them shamelessly over him until he finds a nipple and surrounds it with the heat of his mouth. Hanzo circles his tongue around the tip at the same time his thumb circles and smears precum in the swollen head of McCree’s hard cock. A hearty moan fills the room.

Hanzo doesn’t linger long there, bites and teases until he steals another moan that satisfies his needs. A road of kisses leads him to what he really craves. Him, hard, whole down his throat. When he hurries to trap the tip in his mouth, McCree has already spread his legs and secured a hand in the back of his neck. He fists his hair, keeping it out of the way.

His cheeks hollow rhythmically while he sucks him hard as though he wanted to lap his goodwill along with his cock. And Hanzo stares back at him, humming and swallowing another inch in the wet cave of his mouth. McCree’s already so hard he knows he could steal his orgasm right here and now if he wanted.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna buy twenty of those bottles for ya’,” McCree says and gasps when Hanzo chuckles and twirls his tongue. “or a damn hundred.”

Hanzo wraps a hand around his own length and lets out a strangled moan. He gives a pull and a tug but in a trice he is pumping himself firmly lost in the cock half shoved in his mouth. Dragging back to gasp for air, he takes McCree’s cock out, licking his lips lasciviously and glancing up at the sore mess he has made of the cowboy.

“Not fair, sweetheart,” McCree murmurs. “Let me…”

Hanzo doesn’t. He sinks his throbbing length inside his mouth in one wet and desperate slide, abandoning his own pleasure to fondle with his hands the expanse of McCree’s thighs, tangling his arms around them to bring him closer.

The stretching of his lips and the straining in his throat makes him moan while the cowboy tugs at his hair and tilts his hips up to find his mouth. Hanzo bobs his head, takes him in and out but never all the way out because he wants Jesse right where he is, leaking inside his mouth, his cock twitching at every suck, every brush of his tongue at the base, every jerk of his throat around it. Hanzo wants to choke on that thick cock until it is soft and spent.

McCree mumbles an unintelligible blue streak of curses into the room, biting his own forearm to keep himself quiet while Hanzo devours him, takes him all in, sucks him so good and so eagerly he comes unannounced in a heartbeat, with both his hands cupping Hanzo’s face and his hips jerking into him until he pulls away. Hanzo gags and swallows the first spurt of come, pulling him out maybe too soon but wrapping quickly his hand around McCree to elongate his orgasm, making sure he comes all the way, that he has nothing left for him.

Hanzo lets his tongue out and laps the dripping beads of cum left on his length, tasting McCree on them while he trembles underneath. His ragged breath echoes in the room in loud huffs while he looks intently at him. McCree wouldn’t miss Hanzo licking earnestly his cock, gathering his come in his lips, his beard, that greedy tongue hoarding everything for itself and licking him clean.

“Oh, darlin’,” McCree gasps when Hanzo is finally sated and crawls up to straddle him, cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re a dream,” he says and takes a peek at that firm, hard cock on top of his stomach.

“You are a sweet treat, cowboy,” Hanzo teases with a smirk.

“I want my fair share,” McCree says.

The cowboy pushes Hanzo up and scoots down on the mattress until Hanzo’s knees are at both sides of his head. McCree maps the back of his thighs with his hands until he gropes for Hanzo’s dreamy ass.

Hanzo leans on the headboard -that is really a bare wall- and presses his forehead on his arm, glancing down at McCree who is licking his lips and pushing his ass until his cock rests near his face.

McCree lets his tongue out and traces the outline, paying attention to that enlarged vein at the side, kissing it, tilting his head while he tries to reach for the swollen tip that is smearing precum all over his beard. Hanzo stares at him with a smug smile on his lips, relishing in his struggle and those gutsy hands kneading his ass.

“A lil help, darlin’? I got my hands full,” McCree says and winks at him at the same time he squeezes his butt between his hands.

Hanzo chuckles, taking his own girth in his hand and rubbing it over McCree’s lips. His mouth opens obediently but Hanzo moves his cock out of his reach, rubbing it across his cheek and back over his lips again. He knows he wants it and revels in the power of denying it from him. A farce, Hanzo wants his warmth mouth more than he would ever admit.

“You’re a tease…” McCree says and lets his tongue out hoping Hanzo takes pity on him and rubs himself against it. He does.

“Spank me,” Hanzo asks. A wolfish grin spreads on McCree’s lips while he slaps Hanzo’s cheek with his hand. “I want to feel it, cowboy.” He does it again and this time a faint yelp follows the smack. Every time he does it Hanzo flinches and his cock brushes his face or his lips, but if he’s lucky and he has his tongue out he is blessed with the soft touch of the skin and Hanzo’s taste. “With your _other_ hand.”

“Ya’ naughty,” McCree chuckles and disentangles his left arm to get more swing. His next spank makes Hanzo wail, and he leans over his forearm. He does it until he feels the skin burning hot and surely red with marks in the shape of his hand and fingers. Two times, three, enjoying the pleasure written all over his face. Hanzo’s cock is still tempting him, and he tries to trap it between his lips to no avail.

“Fuck, Jesse.”

“Honey, if ya’ don’t put your cock in my mouth I will bend ya’ over my lap and spank ya’ for real.”

Hanzo laughs, glancing down to meet his gaze and cupping his face with his hand. A hand that then grabs his cock and guides it dutifully to that tongue that wraps around it. He tilts his hips toward Jesse and shoves himself there in his mouth just enough to feel those lips around his girth. He remembers the toast in honor to Jesse’s big mouth and chuckles inwardly. Hot, big, wet mouth that does wonders and deserves a thousand toasts more.

“I won’t last,” Hanzo murmurs when McCree sucks him the same way he did in the car merely weeks ago. It feels even better now that the fear and the doubts cannot find the way to his heart, now that he is not a one-night stand but his partner in crime.

McCree pushes his ass rhythmically and Hanzo takes the hint, rocking his hips into his mouth a little deeper every time, thrusting and fucking into that heavenly well-behaved mouth. And McCree sucks, lets him set the pace and takes all Hanzo wants to offer him, in this case, his whole cock down his throat in and out of him in a tempo McCree knows by heart.

He wants to suck him to completion, wants to drink and taste Hanzo and not waste a drop of his spent, and he knows exactly what to do to achieve it. When Hanzo speeds up when his thrusts are frantic and needy McCree spanks harshly Hanzo’s butt with his left arm. He feels the twitch of the cock in his mouth and he hums pleasantly and does it again, harder, bringing Hanzo toward him and over the edge while a shameful whimper leaves his lungs.

Hanzo moans, his knees sprawled on the bed, supporting himself on the wall while he thrusts into McCree’s mouth and spills himself on him for as long his orgasm lasts. The cowboy swallows and sucks eagerly until Hanzo withdraws his cock. He jerks himself, squeezing at the head, and Jesse whines as a complaint, grasping harshly those red butt cheeks and letting his tongue out to catch that last spurt of come and a befitting intake of air.

McCree hums and licks his lips and Hanzo, with the dopiest smile he never thought he’d wear, crawls down to kiss him. The cowboy who changed his life, helped him push his fate forward and leave the past behind; not forget it, just leave it behind to walk into something better by his side.

“You got it all over your beard,” Hanzo says and laughs into the kiss.

“An’ who’s fault is that?” McCree says, throwing his arms around him and trapping those smirking lips into his own for a filthy, wet kiss where they taste of each other, sex and above all, love. “I like when ya’ get tipsy,” he teases.

“I love you, Jesse,” Hanzo says clear and loud, driven by the haze of his lust, his clouded mind and his deeply in love heart -and maybe the alcohol-. He covers the cowboy’s mouth with his hand because he knows, he need not hear it, he needed to say it.

“Hm hmmm hm hm,” McCree mumbles, hugging him so tightly he’s not even mad at that hand forbidding his aching heart to pour the truth outside. He tickles Hanzo, rolls over him and tackles his writhing body against the mattress. “Don’t ya’ ever leave my side,” he whispers, flustered and blushing by their lovemaking, kissing the fingertips still at his reach.

“Hardly a challenge, cowboy,” Hanzo says and smiles. “You have been marked by the dragon,” he says, nuzzling at the love bite on his neck while the hearty laugh of McCree fills the room.

“Honey, are ya’ sure ya’ wanna talk ‘bout who marked who an' where?” McCree teases and sneaks his hands between Hanzo and the mattress to fondle that abused and surely still pink ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it and enjoyed these two cheesy dorks as much as I do while I write about them (/∇＼*)｡o○♡
> 
> PS: Am I gonna use that "You do not want to rouse the dragon" line everywhere? Until we all roll our eyes whenever we read it LOL
> 
> Have a nice day! And thank you so much for reading my silly fics (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

**Author's Note:**

> Please, let me know if you liked it!!! (Suggestions, corrections, all welcomed)╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩


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